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PZ        3.K629PU19 
Puck  of  Pook's  Hill, 


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Puck  of  Pook's  Hill 


By  Rudyard  Kipling 


Illustrated  by 

Arthur  Rackham 


Dover  Publications,  Inc. 
New  York 


This  Dover  edition,  first  published  in  1968,  is  an 
unabridged  and  unaltered  republication  of  the  work 
originally  published  by  Doubleday,  Page  &  Company 
in  1906. 

The  four  illustrations  by  Arthur  Rackham  were 
reproduced  in  color  in  the  original  edition  of  this 
work. 


International  Standard  Book  Number:  0-486-21880-5 
Library  of  Co7igress  Catalog  Card  Number:  67-2-t221 

Manufactured  in  the  United  States  of  America 
Dover  Publications,  Inc. 

180  Varick  Street 
New  York,  N.  Y.  10014 


CONTENTS 

PAGB 

Puck's  Song  ......         I 

Weland's  Sword          ....  5 

A  Tree  Song  .....       29 

Young  Men  at  the  Manor           .         .  33 

Sir  Richard's  Song         .         .         .  -55 

Harp  Song  of  the  Dane  Women           .  59 

The  Knights  of  the  Joyous  Venture  •       61 

Thorkild's  Song          .         .         .         .  87 

Old  Men  at  Pevensey    .         .         .  -91 

The  Runes  on  Weland's  Sword   .         .  119 

A  Centurion  of  the  Thirtieth          .  -125 

A  British-Roman  Song        .         .         .  145 

On  the  Great  Wall         .         .         .  .149 

A  Song  to  Mithras      .         .         .         .  173 

The  Winged  Hats           .         .         .  .177 

A  Pict  Song        .....  201 

Hal  o'  the  Draft    .....     207 

A  Smugglers'  Song     .         .         .         .  227 

The  Bee  Boy's  Song       .         .         .  .231 

'Dymchurch  Flit'        .         .         .         .  233 

A  Three-Part  Song        .         .         .  .251 

Song  of  the  Fifth  River        .         .         .  255 

The  Treasure  and  the  Law    .         .  -257 

The  Children's  Song   .         .         .         .  276 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGB 


In  the  very  spot  where  Dan  had  stood  as  Puck  they 
saw  a  small,  brown,  broad-shouldered,  pointy- 
eared  person  with  a  snub  nose,  slanting  blue  eyes, 
and  a  grin  that  ran  right  across  his  freckled 
face.         ........       4 

*  There's  where  you  meet  hunters,  and  trappers  for  the 

Circuses,  prodding  along  chained  bears  and  muz- 
zled wolves.'     .         .         .         .         .         .         .148 

•  Hoity-toity! '  he  cried.    '  Here's  Pride  in  purple  feath- 

ers! Here's  wrathy  contempt  and  the  Pomps  of 
the  Flesh!'  ....  And  he  doffed  his  cap 
to  the  bubbling  bird 206 

*"Go!"  she  says,  "Go  with  my  Leave  an'  Good- 
will." ' 232 


PUCK  OF  POOR'S  HILL 


PUCK'S    SONG 


See  you  the  dimpled  track  that  runs, 
All  hollow  through  the  wheat? 

0  that  was  where  they  hauled  the  guns 
That  smote  King  Philip's  fleet. 

See  you  our  little  mill  that  clacks. 

So  busy  by  the  brook? 
She  has  ground  her  corn  and  paid  her  tax 

Ever  since  Domesday  Book. 

See  you  our  stilly  woods  of  oak, 
And  the  dread  ditch  beside? 

0  that  was  where  the  Saxons  broke. 
On  the  day  that  Harold  died. 

See  you  the  windy  levels  spread 

About  the  gates  of  Rye? 
0  that  was  where  the  Northmen  fled, 

When  Alfred's  ships  came  by. 

See  you  our  pastures  wide  and  lone. 
Where  the  red  oxen  browse? 

O  there  was  a  City  thronged  and  known. 
Ere  London  boasted  a  house. 

And  see  you,  after  rain,  the  trace 
Of  mound  and  ditch  and  wall? 

0  that  was  a  Legion's  camping-place, 
When  Ccesar  sailed  from  Gaul. 


PUCK  OF  POOK'S  HILL 

And  see  you  marks  that  show  and  jade, 
Like  shadows  on  the  Downs? 

O  they  are  tlte  lines  the  Flint  Men  made, 
To  guard  tlieir  wondrous  towns. 

Trackway  and  Camp  and  City  lost, 
Salt  Marsh  where  now  is  corn; 

Old  Wars,  old  Peace,  old  Arts  that  cease, 
And  so  was  England  horn! 

She  is  not  any  common  Earth, 

Water  or  wood  or  air, 
But  Merlin's  Isle  of  Gramarye, 

Where  you  and  I  will  fare. 


WELAND'S   SWORD 


.s.(-  f  li.cc  6 


In  the  very  spot  where  Dan  had  stood  as  Puck  they  saw  a  small, 
brown,  broad-shouldered,  pointy-eared  person  with  a  snub  nose, 
slanting  blue  eyes,  and  a  grin  that  ran  right  across  his  freckled  face. 


WELAND'S    SWORD* 


THE  children  were  at  the  Theatre,  act- 
ing to  Three  Cows  as  much  as  they 
could  remember  of  Midsummer 
Night's  Dream.  Their  father  had 
made  them  a  small  play  out  of  the  big  Shake- 
speare one,  and  they  had  rehearsed  it  with 
him  and  with  their  mother  till  they  could 
say  it  by  heart.  They  began  where  Nick  Bot- 
tom the  weaver  comes  out  of  the  bushes  with 
a  donkey's  head  on  his  shoulder,  and  finds 
Titania,  Queen  of  the  Fairies,  asleep.  Then 
they  skipped  to  the  part  where  Bottom  asks 
three  little  fairies  to  scratch  his  head  and  bring 
him  honey,  and  they  ended  where  he  falls 
asleep  in  Titania's  arms.  Dan  was  Puck  and 
Nick  Bottom,  as  well  as  all  three  Fairies.  He 
wore  a  pointy-eared  cloth  cap  for  Puck,  and  a 
paper  donkey's  head  out  of  a  Christmas  cracker 
— but  it  tore  if  you  were  not  careful — ^for 
Bottom.  Una  was  Titania,  with  a  wreath 
of  columbines  and  a  foxglove  wand. 

The  Theatre  lay  in  a  meadow  called  the 
Long  Slip.  A  little  mill-stream,  carrying  water 
to  a  mill  two  or  three  fields  away,  bent  round 
one  comer  of  it,  and  in  the  middle  of  the  bend 
lay  a  large  old  fairy  Ring  of  darkened  grass, 
which  was  their  stage.  The  mill-stream  banks, 
overgrown  with  willow,  hazel,  and  guelder  rose 
made  convenient  places  to  wait  in  till  your 

*Copyright,  1905,  by  Rudyard  Kipling. 

5 


6  PUCK  OF  POOR'S  HILL 

turn  came ;  and  a  grown-up  who  had  seen  it  said 
that  Shakespeare  himself  could  not  have 
imagined  a  more  suitable  setting  for  his  play. 
They  were  not,  of  course,  allowed  to  act  on 
Midsummer  Night  itself,  but  they  went  down 
after  tea  on  Midsummer  Eve,  when  the  shad- 
ows were  growing,  and  they  took  their  supper 
— ^hard-boiled  eggs,  Bath  Oliver  biscuits,  and 
salt  in  an  envelope — with  them.  Three  Cows 
had  been  milked  and  were  grazing  steadily 
with  a  tearing  noise  that  one  could  hear  all 
down  the  meadow;  and  the  noise  of  the  mill 
at  work  sounded  like  bare  feet  running  on 
hard  ground.  A  cuckoo  sat  on  a  gatepost 
singing  his  broken  June  tune,  'cuckoo-cuk, ' 
while  a  busy  kingfisher  crossed  from  the  mill- 
stream  to  the  brook  which  ran  on  the  other 
side  of  the  meadow.  Everything  else  was  a 
sort  of  thick,  sleepy  stillness  smelling  of 
meadow-sweet  and  dry  grass. 

Their  play  went  beautifully.  Dan  remem- 
bered all  his  parts — Puck,  Bottom,  and  the 
three  Fairies — ^and  Una  never  forgot  a  word 
of  Titania — ^not  even  the  difficult  piece  where 
she  tells  the  Fairies  how  to  feed  Bottom  with 
'apricocks,  ripe  figs,  and  dewberries,'  and  all 
the  lines  end  in  'ies.'  They  were  both  so 
pleased  that  they  acted  it  three  times  over 
from  beginning  to  end  before  they  sat  down 
in  the  unthistly  centre  of  the  Ring  to  eat  eggs 
and  Bath  Olivers.  This  was  when  they  heard 
a  whistle  among  the  alders  on  the  bank,  and 
they  jumped. 

The  bushes  parted.  In  the  very  spot  where 
Dan  had  stood  as  Puck  they  saw  a  small, 


WELAND'S  SWORD  7 

brown,  broad-shouldered,  pointy-eared  person 
with  a  snub  nose,  slanting  blue  eyes,  and  a 
grin  that  ran  right  across  his  freckled  face. 
He  shaded  his  forehead  as  though  he  were 
watching  Quince,  Snout,  Bottom,  and  the 
others  rehearsing  Pyramis  and  Thisbe,  and, 
in  a  voice  as  deep  as  Three  Cows  asking  to 
be  milked,  he  began : 

'  What  hempen  homespuns  have  we  swaggering  here, 
So  near  the  cradle  of  our  fairy  Queen? ' 

He  stopped,  hollowed  one  hand  round  his 
ear,  and,  with  a  wicked  twinkle  in  his  eye, 
went  on: 

'  What  a  play  toward?     I'll  be  auditor, 
An  actor  too,  perhaps,  if  I  see  cause.' 

The  children  looked  and  gasped.  The 
small  thing — he  was  no  taller  than  Dan's 
shoulder — stepped  quietly  into  the  Ring. 

Tm  rather  out  of  practice,'  said  he;  'but 
that's  the  way  my  part  ought  to  be  played.' 

Still  the  children  stared  at  him — from  his 
dark  blue  cap,  like  a  big  columbine  flower,  to 
his  bare,  hairy  feet.     At  last  he  laughed. 

'  Please  don't  look  like  that.  It  isn't  my 
fault.     What  else  could  you  expect?'  he  said. 

'We  didn't  expect  any  one,'  Dan  answered, 
slowly.     'This  is  our  field.' 

'Is  it?'  said  their  visitor,  sitting  down. 
'Then  what  on  Human  Earth  made  you  act 
Midsummer  Night's  Dream  three  times  over, 
on  Midsummer  Eve,  in  the  middle  of  a  Ring, 
and  under — aright  under  one  of  mv  oldest  hills 
in  Old  England?     Pook's  Hill— Puck's  Hill— 


8  PUCK  OF  POOK'S  HILL 

Puck's  Hill— Pook's  Hill!  It's  as  plain  as 
the  nose  on  my  face.' 

He  pointed  to  the  bare,  fern-covered  slope  of 
Pook's  Hill  that  runs  up  from  the  far  side  of 
the  mill-stream  to  a  dark  wood.  Beyond 
that  wood  the  ground  rises  and  rises  for  five 
hundred  feet,  till  at  last  you  climb  out  on  the 
bare  top  of  Beacon  Hill,  to  look  over  the  Pe- 
vensey  Levels  and  the  Channel  and  half  the 
naked  South  Downs. 

'By  Oak,  Ash,  and  Thorn!'  he  cried,  still 
laughing.  *  If  this  had  happened  a  few  hun- 
dred years  ago  you'd  have  had  all  the  People 
of  the  Hills  out  like  bees  in  June! ' 

'We  didn't  know  it  was  wrong,'  said  Dan. 

'  Wrong ! '  The  little  fellow  shook  with 
laughter.  '  Indeed,  it  isn't  wrong.  You've 
done  something  that  Kings  and  Knights  and 
Scholars  in  old  days  would  have  given  their 
crowns  and  spurs  and  books  to  find  out.  If 
Merlin  himself  had  helped  you,  you  couldn't 
have  managed  better!  You've  broken  the 
Hills — you've  broken  the  Hills!  It  hasn't 
happened  in  a  thousand  years.' 

'  We — we  didn't  mean  to,'  said  Una. 

'  Of  course  you  didn't !  That's  just  why  you 
did  it.  Unluckily  the  Hills  are  empty  now, 
and  all  the  People  of  the  Hills  are  gone.  I'm 
the  only  one  left.  I'm  Puck,  the  oldest  Old 
Thing  in  England,  very  much  at  your  service 
if — if  you  care  to  have  anything  to  do  with 
me.  If  you  don't,  of  course  you've  only  to 
say  so,  and  I'll  go.' 

He  looked  at  the  children  and  the  children 
looked  at  him  for  quite  half  a  minute.     His 


WELAND'S    SWORD  9 

eyes  did  not  twinkle  any  more.  They  were 
very  kind,  and  there  was  the  beginning  of  a 
good  smile  on  his  lips. 

Una  put  out  her  hand.  'Don't  go,'  she 
said.     '  We  like  you. ' 

'Have  a  Bath  Oliver,'  said  Dan,  and  he 
passed  over  the  squashy  envelope  with  the  eggs. 

'By  Oak,  Ash,  and  Thorn!'  cried  Puck, 
taking  off  his  blue  cap,  '  I  like  you  too.  Sprin- 
kle a  little  salt  on  the  biscuit,  Dan,  and  I'll 
eat  it  with  you.  That'll  show  you  the  sort  of 
person  I  am.  Some  of  us ' — he  went  on,  with 
his  mouth  full— couldn't  abide  Salt,  or  Horse- 
shoes over  a  door,  or  Mountain-ash  berries,  or 
Running  Water,  or  Cold  Iron,  or  the  sound  of 
Church  Bells.     But  I'm  Puck! ' 

He  brushed  the  crumbs  carefully  from  his 
doublet  and  shook  hands. 

'We  always  said,  Dan  and  I,'  Una  stam- 
mered, 'that  if  it  ever  happened  we'd  know 
ex-actly  what  to  do;  but— 4Dut  now  it  seems 
all  different  somehow.' 

'She  means  meeting  a  fairy,'  said  Dan.  / 
never  believed  in  'em — not  after  I  was  six, 
anyhow.' 

'I  did,'  said  Una.  'At  least,  I  sort  of  half 
believed  till  we  learned  "Farewell  Rewards." 
Do  you  know  "  Farewell  Rewards  and  Fairies' '  ?' 

'  Do  you  mean  this  ?'  said  Puck.  He  threw 
his  big  head  back  and  began  at  the  second 
line: — 

*  Good  housewives  now  may  say. 
For  now  foul  sluts  in  dairies 

Do  fare  as  well  as  they ; 
For  though  they  sweep  their  hearths  no  less 


lo  PUCK  OF  POOK'S  HILL 

('Join  in,  Una!') 

Than  maids  were  wont  to  do, 
Yet  who  of  late  for  cleanliness 
Finds  sixpence  in  her  shoe  ? ' 

The  echoes  flapped  all  along  the  flat  meadow. 

'Of  course  I  know  it,'  he  said. 

'And  then  there's  the  verse  about  the 
Rings, '  said  Dan.  *  When  I  was  little  it  always 
made  me  feel  unhappy  in  my  inside.' 

'"Witness  those  rings  and  roundelays," 
do  you  mean?'  boomed  Puck,  with  a  voice 
like  a  great  church  organ. 

'  Of  theirs  which  yet  remain, 
Were  footed  in  Queen  Mary's  days 

On  many  a  grassy  plain. 
But  since  of  late  Elizabeth, 

And  later  James  came  in, 
Are  never  seen  on  any  heath 

As  when  the  time  hath  been. 

'It's  some  time  since  I  heard  that  sung,  but 
there's  no  good  beating  about  the  bush:  it's 
true.  The  People  of  the  Hills  have  all  left. 
I  saw  them  come  into  Old  England  and  I  saw 
them  go.  Giants,  trolls,  kelpies,  brownies, 
goblins,  imps;  wood,  tree,  mound,  and  water 
spirits;  heath-people,  hill-watchers,  treasure- 
guards,  good  people,  little  people,  pishogues, 
leprechauns,  night-riders,  pixies,  nixies,  gnomes 
and  the  rest — gone,  all  gone!  I  came 
into  England  with  Oak,  Ash,  and  Thorn,  and 
when  Oak,  Ash,  and  Thorn  are  gone  I  shall 
go  too.' 

Dan  looked  round  the  meadow — at  Una's 
oak  by  the  lower  gate,  at  the  line  of  ash  trees 


WELAND'S  SWORD  ii 

that  overhang  Otter  Pool  where  the  mill- 
stream  spills  over  when  the  mill  does  not  need 
it,  and  at  the  gnarled  old  white-thorn  where 
Three  Cows  scratched  their  necks. 

'It's  all  right,'  he  said;  and  added,  'I'm 
planting  a  lot  of  acorns  this  autumn  too. ' 

'Then  aren't  you  most  awfully  old?'  said 
Una. 

'  Not  old — ^fairly  long-lived,  as  folk  say  here- 
abouts. Let  me  see— my  friends  used  to  set 
my  dish  of  cream  for  me  o'  nights  when  Stone- 
henge  was  new.  Yes,  before  the  Flint  Men 
made  the  Dewpond  under  Chanctonbury 
Ring.' 

Una  clasped  her  hands,  cried  'Oh!'  and 
nodded  her  head. 

'She's    thought    a   plan,'    Dan    explained. 

*  She  always  does  like  that  when  she  thinks  a 
plan.' 

'I  was  thinking — -suppose we  saved  some  of 
our  porridge  and  put  it  in  the  attic  for  you. 
They'd  notice  if  we  left  it  in  the  nursery.' 

'Schoolroom,'  said  Dan,  quickly,  and  Una 
flushed,  because  they  had  made  a  solemn 
treaty  that  summer  not  to  call  the  schoolroom 
the  nursery  any  more. 

'  Bless    your    heart    o'   gold ! '    said    Puck. 

*  You'll  make  a  fine  considering  wench  some 
market-day.  I  really  don't  want  you  to  put 
out  a  bowl  for  me;  but  if  ever  I  need  a  bite, 
be  sure  I'll  tell  you.' 

He  stretched  himself  at  length  on  the  dry 
grass,  and  the  children  stretched  out  beside 
him,  their  bare  legs  waving  happily  in  the  air. 
They  felt  they  could  not  be  afraid  of  him  any 


12  PUCK  OF  POOK'S  HILL 

more  than  of  their  particular  friend  old  Hob- 
den,  the  hedger.  He  did  not  bother  them 
with  grown-up  questions,  or  laugh  at  the 
donkey's  head,  but  lay  and  smiled  to  himself 
in  the  most  sensible  way. 

'  Have  you  a  knife  on  you? '  he  said  at  last. 

Dan  handed  over  his  big  one-bladed  outdoor 
knife,  and  Puck  began  to  carve  out  a  piece  of 
turf  from  the  centre  of  the  Ring. 

'What's  that  for — Magic?'  said  Una,  as  he 
pressed  up  the  square  of  chocolate  loam  that 
cut  like  so  much  cheese. 

'One  of  my  little  Magics,'  he  answered,  and 
cut  another.  '  You  see,  I  can't  let  you  into 
the  Hills  because  the  People  of  the  Hills  have 
gone;  but  if  you  care  to  take  seizin  from  me, 
I  may  be  able  to  show  3^ou  something  out  of 
the  common  here  on  Human  Earth.  You 
certainly  deserve  it.' 

*  What's  taking  seizin? '  said  Dan,  cautiously. 

*  It's  an  old  custom  the  people  had  when  they 
bought  and  sold  land.  They  used  to  cut  out 
a  clod  and  hand  it  over  to  the  buyer,  and  you 
weren't  lawfully  seized  of  your  land — it  didn't 
really  belong  to  you — till  the  other  fellow  had 
actually  given  you  a  piece  of  it — ^like  this.' 
He  held  out  the  turves. 

'  But  it's  our  own  meadow,'  said  Dan,  draw- 
ing back.     'Are  you  going  to  magic  it  away  ? ' 

Puck  laughed.  '  I  know  it's  your  meadow, 
but  there's  a  great  deal  more  in  it  than  you  or 
your  father  ever  guessed.     Try! ' 

He  turned  his  eyes  on  Una. 

'I'll  do  it,'  she  said.  Dan  followed  her 
example  at  once. 


WELAND'S  SWORD  13 

'  Now  are  you  two  lawfully  seized  and  pos- 
sessed of  all  Old  England,'  began  Puck,  in  a 
sing-song  voice.  'By  Right  of  Oak,  Ash,  and 
Thorn  are  you  free  to  come  and  go  and  look 
and  know  where  I  shall  show  or  best  you  please. 
You  shall  see  What  you  shall  see  and  you  shall 
hear  What  you  shall  hear,  though  It  shall  have 
happened  three  thousand  year;  and  you  shall 
know  neither  Doubt  nor  Fear.  Fast!  Hold 
fast  all  I  give  you.' 

The  children  shut  their  eyes,  but  nothing 
happened. 

'Well?'  said  Una,  disappointedly  opening 
them.     *  I  thought  there  would  be  dragons.' 

'Though  It  shall  have  happened  three 
thousand  year,'  said  Puck,  and  counted  on  his 
fingers.  'No;  I'm  afraid  there  were  no  drag- 
gons  three  thousand  years  ago.' 

'  But  there  hasn't  happened  anything  at  all,* 
said  Dan. 

*  Wait  awhile,'  said  Puck.  '  You  don't  grow 
an  oak  in  a  year — and  Old  England's  older 
than  twenty  oaks.  Let's  sit  down  again  and 
think.     I  can  do  that  for  a  century  at  a  time.' 

'  Ah,  but  you  are  a  fairy, '  said  Dan. 

'  Have  you  ever  heard  me  use  that  word  yet  ?' 
said  Puck,  quickly. 

'  No.  You  talk  about  "  the  People  of  the 
Hills,"  but  you  never  say  "  fairies,"  '  said  Una. 
'I  was  wondering  at  that.  Don't  you  like 
it?' 

*  How  would  you  like  to  be  called  "  mortal " 
or  "human  being"  all  the  time?'  said  Puck; 
'  or  "  son  of  Adam  "  or  "  daughter  of  Eve  "  ? ' 

'  I  shouldn't  like  it  at  all, '  said  Dan.    '  That's 


14  PUCK  OF  POOK'S  HILL 

how  the  Djinns  and  Afrits  talk  in  the  Arabian 
Nights: 

'And  that's  how  /  feel  about  saying — that 
word  that  I  don't  say.  Besides,  what  you  call 
them  are  made-up  things  the  People  of 
the  Hills  have  never  heard  of — ^little  buzzflies 
with  butterfly  wings  and  gauze  petticoats, 
and  shiny  stars  in  their  hair,  and  a  wand  like 
a  schoolteacher's  cane  for  punishing  bad  boys 
and  rewarding  good  ones.     /  know  'em!' 

'  We  don't  mean  that  sort, '  said  Dan.  *  We 
hate  'em  too.' 

'  Exactly, '  said  Puck.  '  Can  you  wonder 
that  the  People  of  the  Hills  don't  care  to  be 
confused  with  that  painty-winged,  wand- 
waving,  sugar- and-shake-your-head  set  of  im- 
postors? Butterfly  wings,  indeed!  I've  seen 
Sir  Huon  and  a  troop  of  his  people  setting  off 
from  Tintagel  Castle  for  Hy-Brasil  in  the 
teeth  of  a  sou' -westerly  gale,  with  the  spray 
flying  all  over  the  castle,  and  the  Horses  of 
the  Hill  wild  with  fright.  Out  they'd  go  in  a 
lull,  screaming  like  gulls,  and  back  they'd  be 
driven  five  good  miles  inland  before  they  could 
come  head  to  wind  again.  Butterfly-wings! 
It  was  Magic — ^Magic  as  black  as  Merlin  could 
make  it,  and  the  whole  sea  was  green  fire  and 
white  foam  with  singing  mermaids  in  it.  And 
the  Horses  of  the  Hill  picked  their  way  from 
one  wave  to  another  by  the  lightning  flashes! 
That  was  how  it  was  in  the  old  days ! ' 

'Splendid,'  said  Dan,  but  Una  shuddered. 

*  I'm  glad  they're  gone,  then;  but  what  made 
the  People  of  the  Hills  go  away?'   Una  asked. 

'Different  things.     I'll  tell  you  one  of  them 


WELAND'S  SWORD  15 

some  day — ^the  thing  that  made  the  biggest  flit 
of  any,'  said  Puck.  '  But  they  didn't  all  flit  at 
once.  They  dropped  off,  one  by  one,  through 
the  centuries.  Most  of  them  were  foreigners 
who  couldn't  stand  our  climate.  They  flitted 
early.' 

'  How  early  ? '  said  Dan. 

'  A  couple  of  thousand  years  or  more.  The 
fact  is  they  began  as  Gods.  The  Phoenicians 
brought  some  over  when  they  came  to  buy  tin; 
and  the  Gauls,  and  the  Jutes,  and  the  Danes, 
and  the  Frisians,  and  the  Angles  brought  more 
when  they  landed.  They  were  always  landing 
in  those  days,  or  being  driven  back  to  their 
ships,  and  they  always  brought  their  Gods 
with  them.  England  is  a  bad  country  for 
Gods.  Now,  /  began  as  I  mean  to  go  on.  A 
bowl  of  porridge,  a  dish  of  milk,  and  a  little 
quiet  fun  with  the  country  folk  in  the  lanes 
was  enough  for  me  then,  as  it  is  now.  I  belong 
here,  you  see,  and  I  have  been  mixed  up  with 
people  all  my  days.  But  most  of  the  others 
insisted  on  being  Gods,  and  having  temples, 
and  altars,  and  priests,  and  sacrifices  of  their 
own.' 

'  People  burned  in  wicker  baskets? '  said  Dan. 
'  Like  Miss  Blake  tells  us  about? ' 

'AH  sorts  of  sacrifices,'  said  Puck.  'If  it 
wasn't  men,  it  was  horses,  or  cattle,  or  pigs,  or 
metheglin — that's  a  sticky,  sweet  sort  of  beer. 
/  never  liked  it.  They  were  a  stiff-necked, 
extravagant  set  of  idols,  the  Old  Things.  But 
what  was  the  result?  Men  don't  like  being 
sacrificed  at  the  best  of  times;  they  don't  even 
like    sacrificino:    their    farm-horses.     After    a 


1 6  PUCK  OF  POOK'S  HILL 

while  men  simply  left  the  Old  Things  alone, 
and  the  roofs  of  their  temples  fell  in,  and  the 
Old  Things  had  to  scuttle  out  and  pick  up  a 
living  as  they  could.  Some  of  them  took  to 
hanging  about  trees,  and  hiding  in  graves  and 
groaning  o'  nights.  If  they  groaned  loud 
enough  and  long  enough  they  might  frighten 
a  poor  countryman  into  sacrificing  a  hen,  or 
leaving  a  pound  of  butter  for  them.  I  remem- 
ber one  Goddess  called  Belisama.  She  be- 
came a  common  wet  water-spirit  somewhere 
in  Lancashire.  And  there  were  hundreds  of 
other  friends  of  mine.  First  they  were  Gods. 
Then  they  were  People  of  the  Hills,  and  then 
they  flitted  to  other  places  because  they 
couldn't  get  on  with  the  English  for  one  reason 
or  another.  There  was  only  one  Old  Thing,  I 
remember,  who  honestly  worked  for  his  living 
after  he  came  down  in  the  world.  He  was 
called  Weland,  and  he  was  a  smith  to  some 
Gods.  I've  forgotten  their  names,  but  he  used 
to  make  them  swords  and  spears.  I  think  he 
claimed  kin  with  Thor  of  the  Scandinavians.' 

'Heroes  of  AsgardThovV  said  Una.  She 
had  been  reading  the  book. 

'Perhaps,'  answered  Puck.  'Nonetheless, 
when  bad  times  came,  he  didn't  beg  or  steal. 
He  worked ;  and  I  was  lucky  enough  to  be  able 
to  do  him  a  good  turn.' 

'  Tell  us  about  it,'  said  Dan.  'I  think  I  like 
hearing  of  Old  Things.* 

They  rearranged  themselves  comfortably, 
each  chewing  a  grass  stem.  Puck  propped 
himself  on  one  strong  arm  and  went  on : 

'Let's  think!    I  met  Weland  first  on  a  No- 


WELAND'S  SWORD  17 

vember  afternoon  in  a  sleet  stomi,  on  Peven- 
sey  Level ' 

'Pevensey?  Over  the  hill,  you  mean?'  Dan 
pointed  south. 

'Yes;  but  it  was  all  marsh  in  those  days, 
right  up  to  Horsebridge  and  Hydeneye.  I  was 
on  Beacon  Hill — ^they  called  it  Brunanburgh 
then — when  I  saw  the  pale  flame  that  burning 
thatch  makes,  and  I  went  down  to  look. 
Some  pirates — I  think  they  must  have  been 
Peofn's  men — were  burning  a  village  on  the 
Levels,  and  Weland's  image — a  big,  black 
wooden  thing  with  amber  beads  round  its  neck 
— ^lay  in  the  bows  of  a  black  thirty-two-oar 
galley  that  they  had  just  beached.  Bitter 
cold  it  was!  There  were  icicles  hanging  from 
her  deck,  and  the  oars  were  glazed  over  with 
ice,  and  there  was  ice  on  Weland's  lips.  When 
he  saw  me  he  began  a  long  chant  in  his  own 
tongue,  telling  me  how  he  was  going  to  rule 
England,  and  how  I  should  smell  the  smoke  of 
his  altars  from  Lincolnshire  to  the  Isle  of 
Wight.  /  didn't  care !  I'd  seen  too  many  Gods 
charging  into  Old  England  to  be  upset  about  it. 
I  let  him  sing  himself  out  while  his  men  were 
burning  the  village,  and  then  I  said  (I  don't 
know  what  put  it  into  my  head),  "Smith  of 
the  Gods,"  I  said,  "the  time  comes  when  I 
shall  meet  you  plying  your  trade  for  hire  by 
the  wayside."  ' 

*  What  did  Weland  say  ? '  said  Una.  '  Was  he 
angry?' 

'  He  called  me  names  and  rolled  his  eyes,  and 
I  went  away  to  wake  up  the  people  inland. 
But  the  pirates  conquered  the  country,  and  for 


i8  PUCK  OF  POOK'S  HILL 

centuries  Weland  was  a  most  important  God. 
He  had  temples  everywhere — ^from  Lincoln- 
shire to  the  Isle  of  Wight,  as  he  said — and  his 
sacrifices  were  simply  scandalous.  To  do  him 
justice,  he  preferred  horses  to  men;  but  men 
or  horses,  I  knew  that  presently  he'd  have 
to  come  down  in  the  world — ^like  the  other  Old 
Things.  I  gave  him  lots  of  time — I  gave  him 
about  a  thousand  years — and  at  the  end  of  'em 
I  went  into  one  of  his  temples  near  Andover  to 
see  how  he  prospered.  There  was  his  altar, 
and  there  was  his  image,  and  there  were  his 
priests,  and  there  were  the  congregation,  and 
everybody  seemed  quite  happy,  except  We- 
land and  the  priests.  In  the  old  days  the  con- 
gregation were  unhappy  until  the  priests  had 
chosen  their  sacrifices ;  and  so  would  yon  have 
been.  When  the  service  began  a  priest  rushed 
out,  dragged  a  man  up  to  the  altar,  pretended 
to  hit  him  on  the  head  with  a  little  gilt  axe, 
and  the  man  fell  down  and  pretended  to  die. 
Then  everybody  shouted:  "  A  sacrifice  to  We- 
land!  A  sacrifice  to  Weland!"  ' 

'And  the  man  wasn't  really  dead? '  said  Una. 

'Not  a  bit.  All  as  much  pretence  as  a  dolls' 
tea-party.  Then  they  brought  out  a  splendid 
white  horse,  and  the  priest  cut  some  hair  from 
its  mane  and  tail  and  burned  it  on  the  altar, 
shouting,  "A  sacrifice!"  That  counted  the 
same  as  if  a  man  and  a  horse  had  been  killed. 
I  saw  poor  Weland 's  face  through  the  smoke, 
and  I  couldn't  help  laughing.  He  looked  so 
disgusted  and  so  hungry,  and  all  he  had  to 
satisfy  himself  was  a  horrid  smell  of  burning 
hair.     Just  a  dolls'  tea-party! 


WELAND'S    SWORD  19 

'  I  judged  it  better  not  to  say  anything  then 
('twouldn't  have  been  fair),  and  the  next  time 
I  came  to  Andover,  a  few  hundred  years  later, 
Weland  and  his  temple  were  gone,  and  there 
was  a  Christian  bishop  in  a  Church  there. 
None  of  the  People  of  the  Hills  could  tell  me 
anything  about  him,  and  I  supposed  that  he 
had  left  England.'  Puck  turned;  lay  on  the 
other  elbow,  and  thought  for  a  long  time. 

'Let's  see,'  he  said  at  last.  'It  must  have 
been  some  few  years  later— a  year  or  two  before 
the  Conquest,  I  think — that  I  came  back  to 
Pook's  Hill  here,  and  one  evening  I  heard  old 
Hobden  talking  about  Weland' s  Ford.' 

*  If  you  mean  old  Hobden  the  hedger,  he's 
only  seventy- two.  He  told  me  so  himself,' 
said  Dan.     'He's  a  intimate  friend  of  ours.' 

'  You're  quite  right,'  Puck  replied.  '  I  meant 
old  Hobden's  ninth  great-grandfather.  He 
w^as  a  free  man  and  burned  charcoal  here- 
abouts. I've  know^n  the  family,  father  and 
son,  so  long  that  I  get  confused  sometimes. 
Hob  of  the  Dene  was  my  Hobden's  name,  and 
he  lived  at  the  Forge  cottage.  Of  course,  I 
pricked  up  my  ears  when  I  heard  Weland 
mentioned,  and  I  scuttled  through  the  woods 
to  the  Ford  just  beyond  Bog  Wood  yonder.' 
He  jerked  his  head  westward,  where  the  valley 
narrows  between  wooded  hills  and  steep  hop- 
fields. 

'Why,  that's  Willingford  Bridge,'  said  Una. 
'  We  go  there  for  walks  often.  There's  a  king- 
fisher there.' 

'  It  was  Weland 's  Ford  then,  dear.  A  road 
led  down  to  it  from  the  Beacon  on  the  top  of 


20  PUCK  OF  POOK'S  HILL 

the  hill — a  shocking  bad  road  it  was — and  all 
the  hillside  was  thick,  thick  oak-forest,  with 
deer  in  it.  There  was  no  trace  of  Weland, 
but  presently  I  saw  a  fat  old  farmer  riding 
down  from  the  Beacon  under  the  greenwood 
tree.  His  horse  had  cast  a  shoe  in  the  clay, 
and  when  he  came  to  the  Ford  he  dismounted, 
took  a  penny  out  of  his  purse,  laid  it  on  a  stone, 
tied  the  old  horse  to  an  oak,  and  called  out: 
"Smith,  Smith,  here  is  work  for  you!"  Then 
he  sat  down  and  went  to  sleep.  You  can 
imagine  how  /  felt  when  I  saw  a  white-bearded, 
bent  old  blacksmith  in  a  leather  apron  creep 
out  from  behind  the  oak  and  begin  to  shoe 
the  horse.  It  was  Weland  himself.  I  was  so 
astonished  that  I  jumped  out  and  said:  "  What 
on  Human  Earth  are  you  doing  here,  Weland  ?' ' ' 

'  Poor  Weland! '  sighed  Una. 

'He  pushed  the  long  hair  back  from  his 
forehead  (he  didn't  recognise  me  at  first). 
Then  he  said:  "  You  ought  to  know.  You 
foretold  it.  Old  Thing.  I'm  shoeing  horses  for 
hire.  I'm  not  even  Weland  now,"  he  said. 
"  They  call  me  Wayland-Smith.  "  ' 

'  Poor  chap  ! '  said  Dan.  *  What  did  you 
say?* 

'What  could  I  say?  He  looked  up,  with 
the  horse's  foot  on  his  lap,  and  he  said,  smiling, 
"  I  remember  the  time  when  I  wouldn't  have 
accepted  this  old  bag  of  bones  as  a  sacrifice, 
and  now  I'm  glad  enough  to  shoe  him  for  a 
penny." 

* "  Isn't  there  any  way  for  you  to  get  back 
to  Valhalla,  or  wherever  you  come  from?"  I 
said. 


WELAND'S    SWORD  21 

'  "  I'm  afraid  not,"  he  said,  rasping  away  at 
the  hoof.  He  had  a  wonderful  touch  with 
horses.  The  old  beast  was  whinnying  on  his 
shoulder.  "  You  may  remember  that  I  was  not 
a  gentle  God  in  my  Day  and  my  Time  and 
my  Power.  I  shall  never  be  released  till  some 
human  being  truly  wishes  me  well." 

'  "  Surely,  "  said  I,  "  the  farnier  can't  do  less 
than  that.  You're  shoeing  the  horse  all  round 
for  him." 

'  "  Yes,"  said  he,  "  and  my  nails  will  hold  a 
shoe  from  one  full  moon  to  the  next.  But 
farmers  and  Weald  Clay,"  said  he,  "are  both 
uncommon  cold  and  sour." 

'  Would  you  believe  it,  that  when  that  farmer 
woke  and  found  his  horse  shod  he  rode 
away  without  one  word  of  thanks?  I  was  so 
angry  that  I  wheeled  his  horse  right  round 
and  walked  him  back  three  miles  to  the  Beacon 
just  to  teach  the  old  sinner  politeness.' 

'  Were  you  invisible  ? '  said  Una.  Puck  nod- 
ded, gravely. 

*  The  Beacon  was  always  laid  in  those  days 
ready  to  light,  in  case  the  French  landed  at 
Pevensey;  and  I  walked  the  horse  about  and 
about  it  that  lee-long  summer  night.  The 
farmer  thought  he  was  bewitched — ^well,  he 
was,  of  course — and  began  to  pray  and  shout. 
/  didn't  care!  I  was  as  good  a  Christian  as  he 
any  fair-day  in  the  County,  and  about  four 
o'clock  in  the  morning  a  young  novice  came 
along  from  the  monastery  that  used  to  stand 
on  the  top  of  Beacon  hill.' 

'What's  a  novice?'  said  Dan. 

*  Jt  really  means  a  man  who  is  beginning  to 


22  PUCK  OF  POOK'S  HILL 

be  a  monk,  but  in  those  days  people  sent  their 
sons  to  a  monastery  just  the  same  as  a  school. 
This  young  fellow  had  been  to  a  monastery  in 
France  for  a  few  months  every  year,  and  he 
was  finishing  his  studies  in  the  monastery  close 
to  his  home  here.  Hugh  was  his  name,  and 
he  had  got  up  to  go  fishing  hereabouts.  His 
people  owned  all  this  valley.  Hugh  heard 
the  farmer  shouting,  and  asked  him  what  in 
the  world  he  meant.  The  old  man  spun  him 
a  wonderful  tale  about  fairies  and  goblins 
and  witches;  and  I  know  he  hadn't  seen  a 
thing  except  rabbits  and  red  deer  all  that 
night.  (The  People  of  the  Hills  are  like  otters 
— ^they  don't  show  except  when  they  choose.) 
But  the  novice  wasn't  a  fool.  He  looked 
down  at  the  horse's  feet,  and  saw  the  new 
shoes  fastened  as  only  Weland  knew  how  to 
fasten  'em.  (Weland  had  a  way  of  turning 
down  the  nails  that  folks  called  the  Smith's 
Clinch.) 

'  "  H'm! "  said  the  novice.     "  Where  did  you 
get  your  horse  shod?" 

'The  farmer  wouldn't  tell  him  at  first, 
because  the  priests  never  liked  their  people 
to  have  any  dealings  with  the  Old  Things.  At 
last  he  confessed  that  the  Smith  had  done  it. 
"What  did  you  pay  him?"  said  the  novice. 
"  Penny, "  said  the  farmer,  very  sulkily. 
"That's  less  than  a  Christian  would  have 
charged,"  said  the  novice.  "I  hope  you 
threw  a  'Thank  you'  into  the  bargain." 
"No,"  said  the  farmer;  "  Wayland-Smith's  a 
heathen."  "  Heathen  or  no  heathen,"  said  the 
novice,  "  you  took  his  help,  and  where  you  get 


WELAND'S  SWORD  23 

help  there  you  must  give  thanks. "  "  What  ?' ' 
said  the  farmer — he  was  in  a  furious  temper 
because  I  was  walking  the  old  horse  in  circles 
all  this  time — ''  What,  you  young  jackanapes? " 
said  he.  "Then  by  your  reasoning  I  ought 
to  say  Thank  you '  to  Satan  if  he  helped  me? " 
"Don't  roll  about  up  there  splitting  reasons 
with  me,  "  said  the  novice.  "  Come  back  to 
the  Ford  and  thank  the  Smith,  or  you'll  be 
sorry. " 

'  Back  the  farmer  had  to  go !  I  led  the  horse, 
though  no  one  saw  me,  and  the  novice  walked 
beside  us,  his  gown  swishing  through  the  shiny 
dew  and  his  fishing-rod  across  his  shoulders 
spearwise.  When  we  reached  the  Ford  again 
— ^it  was  five  o'clock  and  misty  still  under  the 
oaks — ^the  farmer  simply  wouldn't  say  "  Thank 
you."  He  said  he'd  tell  the  Abbot  that  the 
novice  wanted  him  to  worship  heathen  gods. 
Then  Hugh  the  novice  lost  his  temper.  He 
just  cried,  "Out!"  put  his  arm  under  the 
farmer's  fat  leg,  and  heaved  him  from  his 
saddle  on  to  the  turf,  and  before  he  could  rise 
he  caught  him  by  the  back  of  the  neck  and 
shook  him  like  a  rat  till  the  farmer  growled, 
"Thank  you,  Wayland-Smith.  "  ' 

'Did  Weland  see  all  this? '  said  Dan. 

'Oh,  yes,  and  he  shouted  his  old  war-cry 
when  the  farmer  thudded  on  to  the  ground. 
He  was  delighted.  Then  the  novice  turned 
to  the  oak  and  said,  "  Ho!  Smith  of  the  Gods, 
I  am  ashamed  of  this  rude  farmer;  but  for  all 
you  have  done  in  kindness  and  charity  to  him 
and  to  others  of  our  people,  I  thank  you  and 
wish   you   well. "     Then   he   picked   up   his 


24  PUCK  OF  POOK'S  HILL 

fishing-rod — it  looked  more  like  a  tall  spear 
than  ever — and  tramped  off  down  your  valley.' 

'And what  did  poor  Weland  do?'  said  Una. 

'  He  laughed  and  cried  with  joy,  because  he 
had  been  released  at  last,  and  could  go  away. 
But  he  was  an  honest  Old  Thing.  He  had 
worked  for  his  living  and  he  paid  his  debts 
before  he  left.  "  I  shall  give  that  novice  a 
gift,"  said  Weland.  "A  gift  that  shall  do 
him  good  the  wide  world  over,  and  Old  Eng- 
land after  him.  Blow  up  my  fire.  Old  Thing, 
while  I  get  the  iron  for  my  last  task. " 
Then  he  made  a  sword — a  dark  grey,  wavy- 
lined  sword — ^and  I  blew  the  fire  while  he 
hammered.  By  Oak,  Ash,  and  Thorn,  I  tell 
you,  Weland  was  a  Smith  of  the  Gods!  He 
cooled  that  sword  in  running  water  twice,  and 
the  third  time  he  cooled  it  in  the  evening  dew, 
and  he  laid  it  out  in  the  moonlight  and  said 
Runes  (that's  charms)  over  it,  and  he  carved 
Runes  of  Prophecy  on  the  blade.  "  Old 
Thing,  "  he  said  to  me,  wiping  his  forehead, 
"  this  is  the  best  blade  that  Weland  ever  made. 
Even  the  user  will  never  know  how  good  it  is. 
Come  to  the  monastery.  " 

*  We  went  to  the  dormitory  where  the  monks 
slept.  We  saw  the  novice  fast  asleep  in  his  cot, 
and  Weland  put  the  sword  into  his  hand,  and 
I  remember  the  young  fellow  gripped  it  in  his 
sleep.  Then  Weland  strode  as  far  as  he  dared 
into  the  Chapel  and  threw  down  all  his  shoeing- 
tools — ^his  hammer,  and  pincers,  and  rasps — 
to  show  that  he  had  done  with  them  for  ever. 
It  sounded  like  suits  of  annour  falling,  and 
the  sleepy  monks  ran  in,  for  they  thought  the 


WELAND'S  SWORD  25 

monastery  had  been  attacked  by  the  French. 
The  novice  came  first  of  all,  waving  his 
new  sword  and  shouting  Saxon  battle-cries. 
When  they  saw  the  shoeing-tools  they  were 
very  bewildered,  till  the  novice  asked  leave 
to  speak,  and  told  what  he  had  done  to  the 
farmer,  and  what  he  had  said  to  Wayland- 
Smith,  and  how,  though  the  dormitory  light 
was  burning,  he  had  found  the  wonderful 
rune-carved  sword  in  his  cot. 

'The  Abbot  shook  his  head  at  first,  and 
then  he  laughed  and  said  to  the  novice:  "  Son 
Hugh,  it  needed  no  sign  from  a  heathen  God 
to  show  me  that  you  will  never  be  a  monk. 
Take  your  sword,  and  keep  your  sword,  and 
go  with  your  sword,  and  be  as  gentle  as  you 
are  strong  and  courteous.  We  will  hang  up 
the  Smith's  tools  before  the  Altar, "  he  said, 
"because,  whatever  the  Smith  of  the  Gods 
may  have  been  in  the  old  days,  we  know  that 
he  worked  honestly  for  his  living  and  made 
gifts  to  Mother  Church.  "  Then  they  went  to 
bed  again,  all  except  the  novice,  and  he  sat  up 
in  the  garth  playing  with  his  sword.  Then 
Weland  said  to  me  by  the  stables:  "  Farewell, 
Old  Thing;  you  had  the  right  of  it.  You  saw 
me  come  to  England,  and  you  see  me  go. 
Farewell!" 

'  With  that  he  strode  down  the  hill  to  the 
comer  of  the  Great  Woods — Woods  Corner, 
you  call  it  now — ^to  the  very  place  where  he  had 
first  landed  — ^and  I  heard  him  moving  through 
the  thickets  towards  Horsebridge  for  a  little, 
and  then  he  was  gone.  That  was  how  it 
happened.     I  saw  it. ' 


26  PUCK  OF  POOK'S  HILL 

Both  children  drew  a  long  breath. 

'But  what  happened  to  Hugh  the  novice?' 
said  Una. 

'  And  the  sword  ? '  said  Dan. 

Puck  looked  down  the  meadow  that  lay  all 
quiet  and  cool  in  the  shadow  of  Pook's  Hill. 
A  corncrake  jarred  in  a  hay-field  near  by,  and 
the  small  trouts  of  the  brook  began  to  jump. 
A  big  white  moth  flew  unsteadily  from  the 
alders  and  flapped  round  the  children's  heads, 
and  the  least  little  haze  of  water-mist  rose 
from  the  brook. 

*  Do  you  really  want  to  know? '  Puck  said. 

*  We  do, '  cried  the  children.     'Awfully ! ' 

*  Very  good.  I  promised  you  that  you  shall 
see  What  you  shall  see,  and  you  shall  hear 
What  you  shall  hear,  though  It  shall  have 
happened  three  thousand  year;  but  just  now 
it  seems  to  me  that,  unless  you  go  back  to  the 
house,  people  will  be  looking  for  you.  I'll 
walk  with  you  as  far  as  the  gate. ' 

'Will  you  be  here  when  we  come  again?' 
they  asked. 

'Surely,  sure-ly, '  said  Puck.  'I've  been 
here  some  time  already.  One  minute  first, 
please. ' 

He  gave  them  each  three  leaves — one  of 
Oak,  one  of  Ash,  and  one  of  Thorn. 

'  Bite  these,'  said  he.  'Otherwise  you  might 
be  talking  at  home  of  what  you've  seen  and 
heard,  and — if  I  know  human  beings — they'd 
send  for  the  doctor.     Bite! ' 

They  bit  hard,  and  found  themselves  walk- 
ing side  by  side  to  the  lower  gate.  Their 
father  was  leaning  over  it. 


VVELAND'S   SWORD  27 

*  And  how  did  your  play  go? '  he  asked. 

'Oh,  splendidly,'  said  Dan.  'Only  after- 
wards, I  think,  we  went  to  sleep.  It  was  very 
lot  and  quiet.     Don't  you  remember,  Una?' 

Una  shook  her  head  and  said  nothing. 

'I  see, '  said  her  father. 

Late — late  in  the  evening  Kilmeny  came  home, 
For  Kilmeny  had  been  she  could  not  tell  where, 
And  Kilmeny  had  seen  what  she  could  not  declare. 

But  why  are  you  chewing  leaves  at  your  time 
of  life,  daughter?     For  fun?' 

*No.  It  was  for  something,  but  I  can't 
azactly   remember, '    said    Una. 

And  neither  of  them  could  till — 


A  TREE  SONG 


Of  all  the  trees  that  grow  so  fair, 

Old  England  to  adorn, 
Greater  are  none  beneath  the  Sun, 

Than  Oak,  and  Ash,  and  Thorn. 
Sing  Oak,  and  J\.sh,  and  Thorn,  good  Sirs 

{All  of  a  Midsummer  morn)! 
Surely  we  sing  no  little  thing. 

In  Oak,  and  Ash,  and  Thorn! 


Oak  of  the  Clay  lived  many  a  day. 

Or  ever  JEneas  began; 
Ash  of  the  Loam  was  a  lady  at  home, 

When  Brut  was  an  outlaw  man; 
Thorn  of  the  Down  saw  New  Troy  Town 

{From  which  was  London  born); 
Witness  hereby  the  ancientry 

Of  Oak,  and  Ash,  and  Thorn! 


Yew  that  is  old  in  churchyard  mould. 

He  breedeth  a  mighty  bow; 
Alder  for  shoes  do  wise  men  choose. 

And  beech  for  cups  also. 
But  when  ye  have  killed,  and  your  bowl  is  s pilled ^ 

And  your  shoes  are  clean  outworn. 
Back  ye  must  speed  for  all  that  ye  need. 

To  Oak,  and  Ash,  and  Thorn!  ^ 

29 


30  PUCK  OF  POOR'S  HILL 

Ellum  she  haieth  mankind,  and  waiteth 

Till  every  gust  he  laid, 
To  drop  a  limb  on  the  head  of  him, 

That  anyway  tmsts  her  shade 
But  whether  a  lad  he  soher  or  sad. 

Or  mellow  with  ale  from  the  horn, 
He  will  take  no  wrong  when  he  lieth  along 

'Neath  Oak,  and  Ash,  and  Thorn! 


Oh,  do  not  tell  the  Priest  our  plight. 

Or  he  would  call  it  a  sin; 
But — we  have  heen  out  in  the  woods  all  night 

A-conjuring  Summer  in! 
And  we  bring  you  news  by  word  of  mouth — 

Good  news  for  cattle  and  corn — 
Now  is  the  Sun  come  up  from  the  South, 

With  Oak,  and  Ash,  and  Thorn! 


Sing  Oak,  and  Ash,  and  Thorn,  good  Sirs 
{All  of  a  Midsummer  morn)! 

England  shall  hide  till  Judgment  Tide, 
By  Oak,  and  Ash  and  Thorn! 


YOUNG  MEN  AT  THE  MANOR 


YOUNG  MEN  AT  THE  MANOR 


THEY  were  fishing,  a  few  days  later,  in  the 
bed  of  the  brook  that  for  centuries  had 
cut  deep  into  the  soft  valley  soil.  The  trees  clos- 
ing overhead  made  long  tunnels  through  which 
the  sunshine  worked  in  blobs  and  patches. 
Down  in  the  tunnels  were  bars  of  sand  and 
gravel,  old  roots  and  trunks  covered  with  moss 
or  painted  red  by  the  irony  water;  foxgloves 
growing  lean  and  pale  towards  the  light;  clumps 
of  fern  and  thirsty  shy  flowers  who  could  not 
live  away  from  moisture  and  shade.  In  the 
pools  you  could  see  the  wave  thrown  up  by 
the  trouts  as  they  charged  hither  and  yon,  and 
the  pools  were  joined  to  each  other — except 
in  flood  time,  when  all  was  one  brown  rush — 
by  sheets  of  thin  broken  water  that  poured 
themselves  chuckling  round  the  darkness  of 
the  next  bend. 

This  was  one  of  the  children's  most  secret 
hunting-grounds,  and  their  particular  friend, 
old  Hobden  the  hedger,  had  shown  them 
how  to  use  it.  Except  for  the  click  of  a 
rod  hitting  a  low  willow,  or  a  switch  and 
tussle  among  the  young  ash-leaves  as  a 
line  hung  up  for  the  minute,  nobody  in 
the  hot  pasture  could  have  guessed  what 
game  was  going  on  among  the  trouts  below 
the  banks. 

*We's  got  half-a-dozen,'  said  Dan,  after  a 

33 


34  PUCK  OF  POOK'S  HILL 

warm,  wet  hour.  'I  vote  we  go  up  to  Stone 
Bay  and  try  Long  Pool. ' 

Una  nodded — ^most  of  her  talk  was  by  nods 
— and  they  crept  from  the  gloom  of  the  tunnels 
towards  the  tiny  weir  that  turns  the  brook 
into  the  mill-stream.  Here  the  banks  are  low 
and  bare,  and  the  glare  of  the  afternoon  sun 
on  the  Long  Pool  below  the  weir  makes  your 
eyes  ache. 

When  they  were  in  the  open  they  nearly 
fell  down  with  astonishment.  A  huge  grey 
horse,  whose  tail-hairs  crinkled  the  glassy 
water,  was  drinking  in  the  pool,  and  the  rip- 
ples about  his  muzzle  flashed  like  melted  gold. 
On  his  back  sat  an  old,  white-haired  man 
dressed  in  a  loose  glimmery  gown  of  chain- 
mail.  He  was  bareheaded,  and  a  nut-shaped 
iron  helmet  hung  at  his  saddle-bow.  His 
reins  were  of  red  leather  five  or  six  inches  deep, 
scalloped  at  the  edges,  and  his  high  padded 
saddle  with  its  red  girths  was  held  fore  and 
aft  by  a  red  leather  breastband  and  crupper. 

'Look!'  said  Una,  as  though  Dan  were  not 
staring  his  very  eyes  out.  ' It's  like  the  picture 
in  your  room — "  Sir  Isumbras  at  the  Ford.  "  ' 

The  rider  turned  towards  them,  and  his 
thin,  long  face  was  just  as  sweet  and  gentle  as 
that  of  the  knight  who  carries  the  children  in 
that  picture. 

'They  should  be  here  now.  Sir  Richard,' 
said  Puck's  deep  voice  among  the  willow-herb. 

'They  are  here,'  the  knight  said,  and  he 
smiled  at  Dan  with  the  string  of  trouts  in  his 
hand.  'There  seems  no  great  change  in  boys 
since  mine  fished  this  water. ' 


YOUNG  MEN  AT  THE  MANOR   35 

'  If  your  horse  has  drunk,  we  shall  be  more  at 
ease  in  the  Ring, '  said  Puck;  and  he  nodded 
to  the  children  as  though  he  had  never  mag- 
icked  away  their  memories  the  week  before. 

The  great  horse  turned  and  hoisted  himself 
into  the  pasture  with  a  kick  and  a  scramble 
that  tore  the  clods  down  rattling. 

'Your  pardon!'  said  Sir  Richard  to  Dan. 
'  When  these  lands  were  mine,  I  never  loved 
that  mounted  men  should  cross  the  brook 
except  by  the  paved  ford.  But  my  Swallow 
here  was  thirsty,  and  I  wished  to  meet  you. ' 

'We're  very  glad  you've  come,  sir,'  said 
Dan.  Tt  doesn't  matter  in  the  least  about 
the  banks. ' 

He  trotted  across  the  pasture  on  the  sword- 
side  of  the  mighty  horse,  and  it  was  a  mighty 
iron-handled  sword  that  swung  from  Sir 
Richard's  belt.  Una  walked  behind  with 
Puck.     She  remembered  everything  now. 

'I'm  sorry  about  the  Leaves,'  he  said,  'but 
it  would  never  have  done  if  you  had  gone 
home  and  told,  would  it?' 

'I  s'pose  not,'  Una  answered,  '  But  you 
said  that  all  the  fair — ^People  of  the  Hills  had 
left  England. ' 

'So  they  have ;  but  I  told  you  that  you  should 
come  and  go  and  look  and  know,  didn't  I? 
The  knight  isn't  a  fairy.  He's  Sir  Richard 
Dalyngridge,  a  very  old  friend  of  mine.  He 
came  over  with  William  the  Conqueror,  and 
he  wants  to  see  you  particularly. ' 

'What  for?'  said  Una. 

'On  account  of  your  great  wisdom  and 
learning, '  Puck  replied,  without  a  twinkle. 


36  PUCK  OF  POOR'S  HILL 

'  Us  ? '  said  Una.  'Why,  I  don't  know  my 
Nine  Times — ^not  to  say  it  dodging;  and  Dan 
makes  the  most  awful  mess  of  fractions.  He 
can't  mean  us  I ' 

'  Una! '  Dan  called  back.  '  Sir  Richard  says 
he  is  going  to  tell  what  happened  to  We- 
land's  sword.  He's  got  it.  Isn't  it  splen- 
did?' 

'Nay — ^nay,'  said  Sir  Richard,  dismounting 
as  they  reached  the  Ring,  in  the  bend  of  the 
mill-stream  bank.  '  It  is  you  that  must  tell 
me,  for  I  hear  the  youngest  child  in  our  Eng- 
land to-day  is  as  wise  as  our  wisest  clerk. ' 
He  slipped  the  bit  out  of  Swallow's  mouth, 
dropped  the  ruby-red  reins  over  his  head, 
and  the  wise  horse  moved  off  to  graze. 

Sir  Richard  (they  noticed  he  limped  a 
little)  unslung  his  great  sword. 

'  That's  it, '  Dan  whispered  to  Una. 

'  This  is  the  sword  that  Brother  Hugh  had 
from  Wayland-Smith, '  Sir  Richard  said. 
'Once  he  gave  it  to  me,  but  I  would  not  take  it ; 
but  at  the  last  it  became  mine  after  such  a 
fight  as  never  christened  man  fought.  See ! ' 
He  half  drew  it  from  its  sheath  and  turned 
it  before  them.  On  either  side  just  below 
the  handle,  where  the  Runic  letters  shivered 
as  though  they  were  alive,  were  two  deep 
gouges  in  the  dull,  deadly  steel.  '  Nov/,  what 
Thing  made  those?'  said  he.  'I  know  not, 
but  you,  perhaps,  can  say. ' 

'Tell  them  all  the  tale.  Sir  Richard,'  said 
Puck.     '  It  concerns  their  land  somewhat. ' 

'  Yes,  from  the  very  beginning,'  Una  pleaded, 
for  the  knight's  good  face  and  the  smile  on  it 


YOUNG  MEN  AT  THE  MANOR   37 

more  than  ever  reminded  her  of  'Sir  Isumbras 
at  the  Ford. ' 

They  settled  down  to  Hsten,  Sir  Richard 
bare-headed  to  the  sunshine,  dandhng  the 
sword  in  both  hands,  while  the  grey  horse 
cropped  outside  the  Ring,  and  the  helmet  on 
the  saddle-bow  dinged  softly  each  time  he 
jerked  his  head. 

'From  the  beginning,  then,'  Sir  Richard 
said,  '  since  it  concerns  your  land,  I  will  tell 
the  tale.  When  our  Duke  came  out  of  Nor- 
mandy to  take  his  England,  great  knights 
(have  ye  heard  ?)  came  and  strove  hard  to  serve 
the  Duke,  because  he  promised  them  lands 
here,  and  small  knights  followed  the  great 
ones.  My  folk  in  Normandy  were  poor;  but 
a  great  knight,  Engerrard  of  the  Eagle — Enge- 
nulf  DeAquila — who  was  kin  to  my  father, 
followed  the  Earl  of  Mortain,  who  followed 
William  the  Duke,  and  I  followed  De  Aquila. 
Yes,  with  thirty  men-at-arms  out  of  my 
father's  house  and  a  new  sword,  I  set  out  to 
conquer  England  three  days  after  I  was  made 
knight.  I  did  not  then  know  that  England 
would  conquer  me.  We  went  up  to  Sant- 
lache  with  the  rest — a,  very  great  host  of  us. ' 

'Does  that  mean  the  Battle  of  Hastings — 
Ten  Sixty-Six?'  Una  whispered,  and  Puck 
nodded,  so  as  not  to  interrupt. 

'At  Santlache,  over  the  hill  yonder' — he 
pointed  south-eastward  towards  Fairlight — • 
'we  found  Harold's  men.  We  fought.  At 
the  day's  end  they  ran.  My  men  went  with 
De  Aquila' s  to  chase  and  plunder,  and  in  that 
chase  Engerrard  of  the  Eagle  was  slain,  and 


38  PUCK  OF  POOK'S  HILL 

his  son  Gilbert  took  his  banner  and  his  men 
forward.  This  I  did  not  know  till  after,  for 
Swallow  here  was  cut  in  the  flank,  so  I  stayed 
to  wash  the  wound  at  a  brook  by  a  thorn. 
There  a  single  Saxon  cried  out  to  me  in  French, 
and  we  fought  together.  I  should  have  known 
his  voice,  but  we  fought  together.  For  a 
long  time  neither  had  any  advantage,  till  by 
pure  ill-fortune  his  foot  slipped  and  his  sword 
flew  from  his  hand.  Now  I  had  but  newly 
been  made  knight,  and  wished,  above  all, 
to  be  courteous  and  fameworthy,  so  I  fore- 
bore  to  strike  and  bade  him  get  his  sword 
again.  "  A  plague  on  my  sword,  "  said  he. 
"  It  has  lost  me  my  first  fight.  You  have 
spared  my  life.  Take  my  sword.  "  He  held 
it  out  to  me,  but  as  I  stretched  my  hand  the 
sword  groaned  like  a  stricken  man,  and  I 
leaped  back  crying,  "Sorcery!" 

[The  children  looked  at  the  sword  as  though 
it  might  speak  again.] 

*  Suddenly  a  clump  of  vSaxons  ran  out  upon 
me  and,  seeing  a  Norman  alone,  would  have 
killed  me,  but  my  Saxon  cried  out  that  I 
was  his  prisoner,  and  beat  them  off.  Thus, 
see  you,  he  saved  my  life.  He  put  me  on  my 
horse  and  led  me  through  the  woods  ten  long 
miles  to  this  valley. ' 

'  To  here,  d'you  mean?'  said  Una. 

'  To  this  very  valley.  We  came  in  by  the 
Lower  Ford  under  the  King's  Hill  yonder'  — 
he  pointed  eastward  where  the  valley  widens. 

'And  was  that  Saxon  Hugh  the  novice?' 
Dan  asked. 

'Yes,  and  more  than  that.     He  had  been 


YOUNG  MEN  AT  THE  MANOR   39 

for  three  years  at  the  monastery  at  Bee  by 
Rouen,  where' — Sir  Richard  chuckled — ^"the 
Abbot  Herluin  would  not  suffer  me  to  remain. ' 
'  Why  wouldn't  he? '  said  Dan. 

*  Because  I  rode  my  horse  into  the  refectory, 
when  the  scholars  were  at  meat,  to  show  the 
Saxon  boys  we  Normans  were  not  afraid  of 
an  abbot.  It  was  that  very  Saxon  Hugh 
tempted  me  to  do  it,  and  we  had  not  met  since 
that  day.  I  thought  I  knew  his  voice  even 
inside  my  helmet,  and,  for  all  that  our  Lords 
fought,  we  each  rejoiced  we  had  not  slain  the 
other.  He  walked  by  my  side,  and  he  told 
me  how  a  Heathen  God,  as  he  believed,  had 
given  him  his  sword,  but  he  said  he  had  never 
heard  it  sing  before.  I  remember  I  warned 
him  to  beware  of  sorcery  and  quick  enchant- 
ments. '  Sir  Richard  smiled  to  himself.  '  I 
was  very  young — very  young! 

*  When  we  came  to  his  house  here  we  had 
almost  forgotten  that  we  had  been  at  blows. 
It  was  near  midnight,  and  the  Great  Hall  was 
full  of  men  and  women  waiting  news.  There 
I  first  saw  his  sister,  the  Lady  ^lueva,  of 
whom  he  had  spoken  to  us  in  France.  She 
cried  out  fiercely  at  me,  and  would  have  had 
me  hanged  in  that  hour,  but  her  brother  said 
that  I  had  spared  his  life — he  said  not  how 
he  saved  mine  from  his  Saxons — and  that 
our  Duke  had  won  the  day;  and  even  while 
they  wrangled  over  my  poor  body,  of  a  sudden 
he  fell  down  in  a  swoon  from  his  wounds. 

'  "This  is  thy  fault,  "  said  the  Lady  ^lueva 
to  me,  and  she  kneeled  above  him  and  called 
for  wine  and  cloths. 


40  PUCK  OF  POOR'S  HILL 

*  "  If  I  had  known,  "  I  answered,  "  he  should 
have  ridden  and  I  walked.  But  he  set  me  on 
my  horse;  he  made  no  complaint;  he  walked 
beside  me  and  spoke  merrily  throughout.  I 
pray  I  have  done  him  no  harm.  " 

*  "  Thou  hast  need  to  pray,  "  she  said,  catch- 
ing up  her  imderlip.  "If  he  dies,  thou  shalt 
hang!" 

'They  bore  off  Hugh  to  his  chamber;  but 
three  tall  men  of  the  house  bound  me  and  set 
me  under  the  beam  of  the  Great  Hall  with  a 
rope  round  my  neck.  The  end  of  the  rope 
they  flung  over  the  beam,  and  they  sat  them 
down  by  the  fire  to  wait  word  whether  Hugh 
lived  or  died.  They  cracked  nuts  with  their 
knife-hilts  the  while. ' 

'  And  how  did  you  feel  ? '  said  Dan. 

'Very  weary;  but  I  did  heartily  pray  for 
my  schoolmate  Hugh  his  health.  About 
noon  I  heard  horses  in  the  valley,  and  the 
three  men  loosed  my  ropes  and  fled  out,  and 
De  Aquila's  men  rode  up.  Gilbert  de  Aquila 
came  with  them,  for  it  was  his  boast  that, 
like  his  father,  he  forgot  no  man  that  served 
him.  He  was  little,  like  his  father,  but  ter- 
rible, with  a  nose  like  an  eagle's  nose  and 
yellow  eyes  like  an  eagle.  He  rode  tall  war- 
horses — ^roans,  which  he  bred  himself — ^and 
he  could  never  abide  to  be  helped  into  the 
saddle.  He  saw  the  rope  hanging  from  the 
beam  and  laughed,  and  his  men  laughed,  for 
I  was  too  stiff  to  rise. 

'  "This  is  poor  entertainment  for  a  Norman 
knight,"  he  said,  "but,  such  as  it  is,  let  us 
be  grateful.     Show  me,  boy,  to  whom  thoi.i 


YOUNG  MEN  AT  THE  MANOR   41 

owest  most,  and  we  will  pay  them  out  of 
hand. " ' 

'What  did  he  mean?  To  kill  'em?'  said 
Dan. 

'Assuredly.  But  I  looked  at  the  Lady 
^lueva  where  she  stood  among  her  maids, 
and  her  brother  beside  her.  De  Aquila's  men 
had  driven  them  all  into  the  Great  Hall. ' 

'  Was  she  pretty  ? '  said  Una. 

'  In  all  my  life  I  had  never  seen  woman 
fit  to  strew  rushes  before  my  Lady  ^lueva, ' 
the  knight  replied,  quite  simply  and  quietly. 
*As  I  looked  at  her  I  thought  I  might  save  her 
and  her  house  by  a  jest. 

'  "  Seeing  that  I  came  somewhat  hastily  and 
without  warning,"  said  I  to  De  Aquila,  "  I 
have  no  fault  to  find  with  the  courtesy  that 
these  Saxons  have  shown  me. "  But  my 
voice  shook.  It  is — it  was  not  good  to  jest 
with  that  little  man. 

*  All  were  silent  awhile,  till  DeAquila  laughed. 
*'Look,  men — a  miracle!"  said  he.  "The 
fight  is  scarce  sped,  my  father  is  not  yet  buried, 
and  here  we  find  our  youngest  knight  already 
set  down  in  his  Manor,  while  his  Saxons — ye 
can  see  it  in  their  fat  faces — have  paid  him 
homage  and  service!  By  the  Saints,"  he 
said,  rubbing  his  nose,  "  I  never  thought 
England  would  be  so  easy  won!  Surely  I  can 
do  no  less  than  give  the  lad  what  he  has  taken. 
This  Manor  shall  be  thine,  boy,  "  he  said,  "till 
I  come  again,  or  till  thou  art  slain.  Now, 
mount,  men,  and  ride.  We  follow  our  Duke 
into  Kent  to  make  him  King  of  England.  " 

'  He  drew  me  with  him  to  the  door  while 


42  PUCK  OF  POOK'S  HILL 

they  brought  his  horse — a,  lean  roan,  taller 
than  my  Swallow  here,  but  not  so  well  girthed. 

' "  Hark  to  me,  "  he  said,  fretting  with  his 
great  war-gloves.  "  I  have  given  thee  this 
Manor,  which  is  a  Saxon  hornets'  nest,  and  I 
think  thou  wilt  be  slain  in  a  month — as 
my  father  was  slain.  Yet  if  thou  canst 
keep  the  roof  on  the  hall,  the  thatch  on  the 
bam,  and  the  plough  in  the  furrow  till  I  come 
back,  thou  shalt  hold  the  Manor  from  me; 
for  the  Duke  has  promised  our  Earl  Mortain 
all  the  lands  by  Pevensey,  and  Mortain  will 
give  me  of  them  what  he  would  have  given 
my  father.  God  knows  if  thou  or  I  shall 
live  till  England  is  won;  but  remember,  boy, 
that  here  and  now  fighting  is  foolishness 
and" — ^he  reached  for  the  reins — ^" craft  and 
cunning  is  all. " 

*  "  Alas,  I  have  no  cunning,  "  said  L 

'"Not  yet,"  said  he,  hopping  abroad,  foot 
in  stirrup,  and  poking  his  horse  in  the  belly 
with  his  toe.  "Not  yet,  but  I  think  thou 
hast  a  good  teacher.  Farewell!  Hold  the 
Manor  and  live.  Lose  the  Manor  and  hang,  " 
he  said,  and  spurred  out,  his  shield-straps 
squeaking  behind  him. 

'  So,  children,  here  was  I,  little  more  than  a 
boy,  and  Santlache  fight  not  two  days  old, 
left  alone  with  my  thirty  men-at-arms,  in  a 
land  I  knew  not,  among  a  people  whose  tongue 
I  could  not  speak,  to  hold  down  the  land 
which  I  had  taken  from  them. ' 

'And  that  was  here  at  home?'  said  Una. 

'Yes,  here.  See!  From  the  Upper  Ford, 
Weland's  Ford,  to  the  Lower  Ford,  by  the 


YOUNG  MEN  AT  THE  MANOR   43 

Belle  Allee,  west  and  east  it  ran  half  a  league. 
From  the  Beacon  of  Brunanburgh  behind  us 
here,  south  and  north  it  ran  a  full  league — and 
all  the  woods  were  full  of  broken  men  from 
Santlache,  Saxon  thieves,  Norman  plunderers, 
robbers,  and  deerstealers.  A  hornets'  nest 
indeed ! 

'When  De  Aquila  had  gone,  Hugh  would 
have  thanked  me  for  saving  their  lives;  but 
Lady  ^lueva  said  that  I  had  done  it  only 
for  the  sake  of  receiving  the  Manor. 

'  "  How  could  I  know  that  De  Aquila  would 
give  it  me?"  I  said.  "If  I  had  told  him 
I  had  spent  my  night  in  your  halter  he  would 
have  burned  the  place  twice  over  by  now.  " 

' "  If  any  man  had  put  my  neck  in  a  rope, " 
she  said,  "  I  would  have  seen  his  house  burned 
thrice  over  before  /  would  have  made  terms.  " 

*  "  But  it  was  a  woman,  "  I  said ;  and  I  laughed 
and  she  wept  and  said  that  I  mocked  her  in 
her  captivity. 

'"Lady,"  said  I,  "there  is  no  captive  in 
this  valley  except  one,  and  he  is  not  a  Saxon.  " 

'At  this  she  cried  that  I  was  a  Norman 
thief,  who  came  with  false,  sweet  words,  hav- 
ing intended  from  the  first  to  turn  her  out 
in  the  fields  to  beg  her  bread.  Into  the  fields ! 
She  had  never  seen  the  face  of  war ! 

'  I  was  angry,  and  answered,  "  This  much 
at  least  I  can  disprove,  for  I  swear" — and  on 
my  sword-hilt  I  swore  it  in  that  place — ^"  I 
swear  I  will  never  set  foot  in  the  Great  Hall 
till  the  Lady  ^lueva  herself  shall  summons 
me  there. " 

'  She  went  awa}^   saying    nothing,    and    I 


44  PUCK  OF  POOR'S  HILL 

walked  out,  and  Hugh  limped  after  me,  whist- 
ling dolorously  (that  is  a  custom  of  the  Eng- 
lish), and  we  came  upon  the  three  Saxons  that 
had  bound  me.  They  were  now  bound  by 
my  men-at-arms,  and  behind  them  stood 
some  fifty  stark  and  sullen  churls  of  the  House 
and  the  Manor,  waiting  to  see  what  should 
fall.  We  heard  De  Aquila's  trumpets  blow 
thin  through  the  woods  Kentward. 

*  "  Shall  we  hang  these? "  said  my  men. 

' "  Then  my  churls  will  fight,  "  said  Hugh, 
beneath  his  breath;  but  I  bade  him  ask  the 
three  what  mercy  they  hoped  for. 

'"None,"  said  they  all.  "She  bade  us 
hang  thee  if  our  master  died.  And  we 
would  have  hanged  thee.  There  is  no  more 
to  it." 

*  As  I  stood  doubting  a  woman  ran  down 
from  the  oak  wood  above  the  King's  Hill 
yonder,  and  cried  out  that  some  Normans 
were  driving  off  the  swine  there. 

* " Norman  or  Saxon, "  said  I,  "we  must 
beat  them  back,  or  they  will  rob  us  every  day. 
Out  at  them  with  any  arms  ye  have!"  So  I 
loosed  those  three  carles  and  we  ran  together, 
my  men-at-arms  and  the  Saxons  with  bills 
and  bows  which  they  had  hidden  in  the  thatcix 
of  their  huts,  and  Hugh  led  them.  Half-way 
up  the  King's  Hill  we  found  a  false  fellow 
from  Picardy — a  sutler  that  sold  wine  in  the 
Duke's  camp — with  a  dead  knight's  shield  on 
his  arm,  a  stolen  horse  under  him,  and  some 
ten  or  twelve  wastrels  at  his  tail,  all  cutting 
and  slashing  at  the  pigs.  We  beat  them  off, 
and  saved  our  pork.      One  hundred  and  sev- 


YOUNG  MEN  AT  THE  MANOR   45 

enty  pigs  we  saved  in  that  great  battle. '  Sir 
Richard  laughed. 

'That,  then,  was  our  first  work  together, 
and  I  bade  Hugh  tell  his  folk  that  so  would  I 
deal  with  any  man,  knight  or  churl,  Norman 
or  Saxon,  who  stole  as  much  as  one  egg  from 
our  valley.  Said  he  to  me,  riding  home: 
"Thou  hast  gone  far  to  conquer  England 
this  evening."  I  answered:  "England  must 
be  thine  and  mine,  then.  Help  me,  Hugh, 
to  deal  aright  with  this  people.  Make  them 
to  know  that  if  they  slay  me  De  Aquila  will 
surely  send  to  slay  them,  and  he  will  put  a 
worse  man  in  my  place.  "  "  That  may  well 
be  true,  "  said  he,  and  gave  me  his  hand. 
"  Better  the  devil  we  know  than  the  devil  we 
know  not,  till  we  can  pack  you  Normans 
home.  "  And  so,  too,  said  his  Saxons;  and 
they  laughed  as  we  drove  the  pigs  downhill. 
But  I  think  some  of  them,  even  then,  began 
not  to  hate  me. ' 

'I  like  Brother  Hugh,'  said  Una,  softly. 

'  Beyond  question  he  was  the  most  perfect, 
courteous,  valiant,  tender,  and  wise  knight 
that  ever  drew  breath, '  said  Richard,  caressing 
the  sword.  'He  hung  up  his  sword — this 
sword — on  the  wall  of  the  Great  Hall,  because 
he  said  it  was  fairly  mine,  and  never  he  took 
it  down  till  De  Aquila  returned,  as  I  shall  pre- 
sently show.  For  three  months  his  men  and 
mine  guarded  the  valley,  till  all  robbers  and 
nightwalkers  learned  there  was  nothing  to  get 
from  us  save  hard  tack  and  a  hanging.  Side 
by  side  we  fought  against  all  who  came — thrice 
a  week  sometimes  we  fought — against  thieves 


46  PUCK  OF  POOR'S  HILL 

and  landless  knights  looking  for  good  manors. 
Then  we  were  in  some  peace,  and  I  made  shift 
by  Hugh's  help  to  govern  the  valley — ^for  all 
this  valley  of  yours  was  my  Manor — as  a 
knight  should.  I  kept  the  roof  on  the  hall  and 
the  thatch  on  the  barn,  but  .  .  .  The  En- 
glish are  a  bold  people.  His  Saxons  would 
laugh  and  jest  with  Hugh,  and  Hugh  with 
them,  and — ^this  was  marvellous  to  me — if 
even  the  meanest  of  them  said  that  such  and 
such  a  thing  was  the  Custom  of  the  Manor, 
then  straightway  would  Hugh  and  such  old 
men  of  the  Manor  as  might  be  near  forsake 
everything  else  to  debate  the  matter — ^I  have 
seen  them  stop  the  mill  with  the  com  half 
ground — and  if  the  custom  or  usage  were 
proven  to  be  as  it  was  said,  why,  that  was  the 
end  of  it,  even  though  it  were  fiat  against 
Hugh,  his  wish  and  command.     Wonderful!' 

'Aye,'  said  Puck,  breaking  in  for  the  first 
time.  'The  Custom  of  Old  England  was 
here  before  your  Norman  knights  came,  and 
it  outlasted  them,  though  they  fought  against 
it  cruel. ' 

'Not  I, '  said  Richard.  'I  let  the  Saxons 
go  their  stubborn  way,  but  when  my  own  men- 
at-arms,  Normans  not  six  months  in  England, 
stood  up  and  told  me  what  was  the  custom 
of  the  country,  then  I  was  angry.  Ah,  good 
days!  Ah,  wonderful  people!  And  I  loved 
them  all. ' 

The  knight  lifted  his  arms  as  though  he 
would  hug  the  whole  dear  valley,  and  Swallow, 
hearing  the  chink  of  his  chain-mail,  looked 
up  and  whinnied  softly. 


YOUNG  MEN  AT  THE  MANOR   47 

*At  last,'  he  went  on,  'after  a  year  of  striving 
and  contriving  and  some  little  driving,  De 
Aquila  came  to  the  valley,  alone  and  without 
warning.  I  saw  him  first  at  the  Lower  Ford, 
with  a  swine-herd's  brat  on  his  saddle-bow. 

' "  There  is  no  need  for  thee  to  give  any 
account  of  thy  stewardship, "  said  he.  "  I 
have  it  all  from  the  child  here.  "  And  he  told 
me  how  the  young  thing  had  stopped  his  tall 
horse  at  the  Ford,  by  waving  of  a  branch, 
and  crying  that  the  way  was  barred.  "And 
if  one  bold,  bare  babe  be  enough  to  guard 
the  Ford  in  these  days,  thou  hast  done 
well, "  said  he,  and  piiffed  and  wiped  his 
head. 

He  pinched  the  child's  cheek,  and  looked  at 
our  cattle  in  the  flat  by  the  brook. 

' "  Both  fat,  "  said  he,  rubbing  his  nose. 
"This  is  craft  and  cunning  such  as  I  love. 
What  did  I  tell  thee  when  I  rode  away,  boy  ? " 

'"Hold  the  Manor  or  hang,  "  said  I.  I  had 
never  forgotten  it. 

'  "  True.  And  thou  hast  held.  "  He  clam- 
bered from  his  saddle  and  with  sword's  point 
cut  out  a  turf  from  the  bank  and  gave  it  me 
where  I  kneeled. ' 

Dan  looked  at  Una,  and  Una  looked  at 
Dan. 

'That's  seizin,'  said  Puck,  in  a  whisper. 

' "  Now  thou  art  lawfully  seized  of  the  Ma- 
nor, Sir  Richard, "  said  he — 'twas  the  first 
timxC  he  ever  called  me  that — "thou  and  thy 
heirs  for  ever.  This  must  serve  till  the  King's 
clerks  write  out  thy  title  on  a  parchment. 
England  is  all  ours — if  we  can  hold  it.  " 


48  PUCK  OF  POOR'S  HILL 

'"What  service  shall  I  pay?"  I  asked,  and 
I  remember  I  was  proud  beyond  words. 

' "  Knight's  fee,  boy,  knight's  fee! "  said  he, 
hopping  round  his  horse  on  one  foot.  (Have 
I  said  he  was  little,  and  could  not  endure  to 
be  helped  to  his  saddle?)  "  Six  mounted  men 
or  twelve  archers  thou  shalt  send  me  when- 
ever I  call  for  them,  and — where  got  you  that 
com? "  said  he,  for  it  was  near  harvest,  and  our 
corn  stood  well.  "  I  have  never  seen  such 
bright  straw.  Send  me  three  bags  of  the  same 
seed  yearly,  and  furthermore,  in  memory  of 
our  last  meeting — with  the  rope  round  thy 
neck — entertain  me  and  my  men  for  two  days 
of  each  year  in  the  Great  Hall  of  thy  Manor.  " 

'  "  Alas! "  said  I,  "  then  my  Manor  is  already 
forfeit.  I  am  under  vow  not  to  enter  the 
Great  Hall."  And  I  told  him  what  I  had 
sworn  to  the  Lady  ^lueva.' 

'And  hadn't  you  ever  been  into  the  house 
since?'  said  Una. 

'Never, '  Sir  Richard  answered  smiling. 
*I  had  made  me  a  little  hut  of  wood  up  the 
hill,  and  there  I  did  justice  and  slept.  .  .  . 
De  Aquila  wheeled  aside,  and  his  shield  shook 
on  his  back.  "  No  matter,  boy, "  said  he. 
"  I  will  remit  the  homage  for  a  year." ' 

'He  meant  Sir  Richard  needn't  give  him 
dinner  there  the  first  year, '  Puck  explained. 

'De  Aquila  stayed  with  me  in  the  hut  and 
Hugh,  who  could  read  and  write  and  cast 
accounts,  showed  him  the  roll  of  the  Manor, 
in  which  were  written  all  the  names  of  our 
fields  and  men,  and  he  asked  a  thousand  ques- 
tions   touching    the    land,    the    timber,    the 


YOUNG  MEN  AT  THE  MANOR  49 

grazing,  the  mill,  and  the  fish-ponds,  and  the 
worth  of  every  man  in  the  valley.  But  never 
he  named  the  Lady  ^lueva's  name,  nor  went 
he  near  the  Great  Hall.  By  night  he  drank 
with  us  in  the  hut.  Yes,  he  sat  on  the  straw 
like  an  eagle  ruffled  in  her  feathers,  his  yellow 
eyes  rolling  above  the  cup,  and  he  pounced 
in  his  talk  like  an  eagle,  swooping  from  one 
thing  to  another,  but  always  binding  fast. 
Yes ;  he  would  lie  still  awhile,  and  then  rustle 
in  the  straw,  and  speak  sometimes  as  though 
he  were  King  William  himself,  and  anon  he 
would  speak  in  parables  and  tales,  and  if  at 
once  we  saw  not  his  meaning  he  would  yerk 
us  in  the  ribs  with  his  scabbarded  sword. 

' "  Look  you,  boys, "  said  he,  "  I  am  bom 
out  of  my  due  time.  Five  hundred  years  ago 
I  would  have  made  all  England  such  an 
England  as  neither  Dane,  Saxon,  nor  Nor- 
man should  have  conquered.  Five  hundred 
years  hence  I  should  have  been  such  a  coun- 
cillor' to  Kings  as  the  world  hath  never 
dreamed  of.  'Tis  all  here,  "  said  he,  tapping 
his  big  head,  "but  it  hath  no  play  in  this 
black  age.  Now  Hugh  here  is  a  better 
man  than  thou  art,  Richard. "  He  had 
made  his  voice  harsh  and  croaking,  like  a 
raven's. 

'"Truth,"  said  I.  "But  for  Hugh,  his 
help  and  patience  and  long-suffering,  I  could 
never  have  kept  the  Manor. " 

' "  Nor  thy  life  either, "  said  De  Aquila. 
"  Hugh  has  saved  thee  not  once,  but  a  hundred 
times.  Be  still,  Hugh!"  he  said.  "Dost 
thou  know,  Richard,  why  Hugh  slept,  and 


50  PUCK  OF  POOK'S  HILL 

why  he  still  sleeps,  among  thy  Norman  men- 
at-arms?" 

*"To  be  near  me,"  said  I,  for  I  thought 
this  was  truth. 

'"Fool!"  said  De  Aquila.  "It  is  because 
his  Saxons  have  begged  him  to  rise  against 
thee,  and  to  sweep  every  Norman  out  of  the 
valley.  No  matter  how  I  know.  It  is 
truth.  Therefore  Hugh  hath  made  himself 
an  hostage  for  thy  life,  well  knowing  that  if 
any  harm  befell  thee  from  his  Saxons  thy 
Normans  would  slay  him  without  remedy. 
And  this  his  Saxons  know.  It  is  true, 
Hugh?" 

*  "  In  some  sort,  "  said  Hugh,  shamefacedly; 
"at  least,  it  was  true  half  a  year  ago.  My 
Saxons  would  not  harm  Richard  now.  I 
think  they  know  him;  but  I  judged  it  best  to 
make  sure. " 

*  Look,  children,  what  that  man  had  done — 
and  I  had  never  guessed  it!  Night  after 
night  had  he  lain  down  among  my  men-at- 
arms,  knowing  that  if  one  Saxon  had  lifted 
knife  against  me  his  life  would  have  an- 
swered for  mine. 

'"Yes,"  said  De  Aquila.  "And  he  is 
a  swordless  man. "  He  pointed  to  Hugh's 
belt,  for  Hugh  had  put  away  his  sword — did 
I  tell  you  ? — the  day  after  it  flew  from  his 
hand  at  Santlache.  He  carried  only  the 
short  knife  and  the  long-bow.  "  Sword- 
less and  landless  art  thou,  Hugh;  and  they 
call  thee  kin  to  Earl  Godwin. "  (Hugh  was 
indeed  of  Godwin's  blood.)  "The  Manor 
that  was  thine  was  given  to  this  boy  and  to  his 


YOUNG  MEN  AT  THE  MANOR   51 

children  for  ever.  Sit  up  and  beg,  for  he  can 
turn  thee  out  like  a  dog,  Hugh! " 

'  Hugh  said  nothing,  but  I  heard  his  teeth 
grind,  and  I  bade  De  Aquila,  my  own  over- 
lord, hold  his  peace,  or  I  would  stuff  his  words 
down  his  throat.  Then  De  Aquila  laughed 
till  the  tears  ran  down  his  face. 

'  "  I  warned  the  King,  "  said  he,  "  what  would 
come  of  giving  England  to  us  Norman  thieves. 
Here  art  thou,  Richard,  less  than  two  days 
confirmed  in  thy  Manor,  and  already  thou 
hast  risen  against  thy  overlord.  What  shall 
do  to  him,  Sir  Hugh? " 

'  "  I  am  a  swordless  man,  "  said  Hugh.  "  Do 
not  jest  with  me,  "  and  he  laid  his  head  on  his 
knees  and  groaned. 

'  "  The  greater  fool  thou,  "  said  De  Aquila, 
and  all  his  voice  changed;  "for  I  have  given 
thee  the  Manor  of  Dallington  up  the  hill  this 
half -hour  since, "  and  he  yerked  at  Hugh 
with  his  scabbard  across  the  straw. 

*"To  me?"  said  Hugh.  "I  am  a  Saxon, 
and,  except  that  I  love  Richard  here,  I  have 
not  sworn  fealty  to  any  Norman.  " 

'  "  In  God's  good  time,  which  because  of  my 
sins  I  shall  not  live  to  see,  there  will  be  neither 
Saxon  nor  Norman  in  England, "  said  De 
Aquila.  "  If  I  know  men,  thou  art  more 
faithful  unsworn  than  a  score  of  Normans 
I  could  name.  Take  Dallington,  and  join 
Sir  Richard  to  fight  me  to-morrow,  if  it  please 
thee!" 

'"Nay,"  said  Hugh.  "I  am  no  child. 
Where  I  take  a  gift,  there  I  render  service  " ; 
and  he  put  his  hands  between  De  Aquila's, 


52  PUCK  OF  POOR'S  HILL 

and  swore  to  be  faithful,  and,  as  I  remember, 
I  kissed  him,  and  De  Aquila  kissed  us  both. 

*  We  sat  afterwards  outside  the  hut  while  the 
sun  rose,  and  De  Aquila  marked  our  churls 
going  to  their  work  in  the  fields,  and  talked  of 
holy  things,  and  how  we  should  govern  our 
Manors  in  time  to  come,  and  of  hunting  and  of 
horse-breeding,  and  of  the  King's  wisdom 
and  unwisdom;  for  he  spoke  to  us  as  though 
we  were  in  all  sorts  now  his  brothers.  Anon 
a  churl  stole  up  to  me — he  was  one  of  the 
three  I  had  not  hanged  a  year  ago — and  he 
bellowed — which  is  the  Saxon  for  whispering 
— that  the  Lady  ^lueva  would  speak  to  me 
at  the  Great  House.  She  walked  abroad 
daily  in  the  Manor,  and  it  was  her  custom  to 
send  me  word  whither  she  went,  that  I  might 
set  an  archer  or  two  behind  and  in  front  to 
guard  her.  Very  often  I  myself  lay  up  in  the 
woods  and  watched  on  her  also. 

*  I  went  swiftly,  and  as  I  passed  the  great  door 
it  opened  from  within,  and  there  stood  my 
Lady  ^lueva,  and  she  said  to  me:  "Sir 
Richard,  will  it  please  you  enter  your  Great 
Hall?"     Then  she  wept,  but  we  were  alone. ' 

The  knight  was  silent  for  a  long  time,  his 
face  turned  across  the  valley,  smiling. 

'Oh,  well  done! 'said  Una,  and  clapped  her 
hands  very  softly.  '  She  was  sorry,  and  she 
said  so. ' 

'Aye,  she  was  sorry,  and  she  said  so,'  said 
Sir  Richard,  coming  back  with  a  little  start. 
'  Very  soon— but  he  said  it  was  two  full  hours 
later — ^De  Aquila  rode  to  the  door,  with  his 
shield  new  scoured  (Hugh  had  cleansed  it), 


YOUNG  MEN  AT  THE  MANOR   53 

and  demanded  entertainment,  and  called  me 
a  false  knight,  that  would  starve  his  overlord 
to  death.  Then  Hugh  cried  out  that  no  man 
should  work  in  the  valley  that  day,  and  our 
Saxons  blew  horns,  and  set  about  feasting  and 
drinking,  and  running  of  races,  and  dancing 
and  singing;  and  De  Aquila  climbed  upon  a 
horse-block  and  spoke  to  them  in  what  he 
swore  was  good  Saxon,  but  no  man  under- 
stood it.  At  night  we  feasted  in  the  Great 
Hall,  and  when  the  harpers  and  the  singers 
were  gone  we  four  sat  late  at  the  high  table. 
As  I  remember,  it  was  a  warm  night  with  a 
full  moon,  and  De  Aquila  bade  Hugh  take 
down  his  sword  from  the  wall  again,  for  the 
honour  of  the  Manor  of  Dallington,  and  Hugh 
took  it  gladly  enough.  Dust  lay  on  the  hilt, 
for  I  saw  him  blow  it  off. 

*  She  and  I  sat  talking  a  little  apart,  and  at 
first  we  thought  the  harpers  had  come  back, 
for  the  Great  Hall  was  filled  with  a  rushing 
noise  of  music.  De  Aquila  leaped  up;  but 
there  was  only  the  moonlight  fretty  on  the 
floor. 

'  "  Hearken! "  said  Hugh.  "  It  is  my  sword," 
and  as  he  belted  it  on  the  music  ceased. 

*  "  Over  Gods,  forbid  that  I  should  ever  belt 
blade  like  that, "  said  De  Aquila.  "  What 
does  it  foretell?" 

'  "  The  Gods  that  made  it  may  know.  Last 
time  it  spoke  was  at  Hastings,  when  I  lost 
all  my  lands.  Belike  it  sings  now  that  I  have 
new  lands  and  am  a  man  again,  "  said  Hugh. 

'  He  loosed  the  blade  a  little  and  drove  it 
back  happily  into  the  sheath,  and  the  sword 


54  PUCK  OF  POOR'S  HILL 

answered  him  low  and  crooningly,  as — as  a 
woman  would  speak  to  a  man,  her  head  on  his 
shoulder. 

'  Now  that  was  the  second  time  in  all  my  life 
I  heard  this  Sword  sing. '     .     .     . 

*  Look ! '  said  Una.  '  There's  mother  coming 
down  the  Long  Slip.  What  will  she  say  to 
Sir  Richard  ?     She  can't  help  seeing  him. ' 

'And  Puck  can't  magic  us  this  time, '  said 
Dan. 

'Are  you  sure?'  said  Puck;  and  he  leaned 
forward  and  whispered  to  Sir  Richard,  who, 
smiling,  bowed  his  head. 

'  But  what  befell  the  sword  and  my  brother 
Hugh  I  will  tell  on  another  time, '  said  he, 
rising.     '  Ohe,  Swallow!' 

The  great  horse  cantered  up  from  the  far 
end  of  the  meadow,  close  to  mother. 

They  heard  mother  say : '  Children,  Gleason's 
old  horse  has  broken  into  the  meadow  again. 
Where  did  he  get  through  ? ' 

'Just  below  Stone  Bay, '  said  Dan.  '  He 
tore  down  simple  flobs  of  the  bank!  We 
noticed  it  just  now.  And  we've  caught  no 
end  of  fish.    We've  been  at  it  all  the  afternoon. ' 

And  they  honestly  believed  that  they  had. 
They  never  noticed  the  Oak,  Ash,  and  Thorn 
leaves  that  Puck  had  slyly  thrown  into  their 
laps. 


SIR  RICHARD'S   SONG 


/  followed  my  Duke  ere  I  was  a  lover, 
To  take  from  England  fief  and  fee; 

But  now  this  game  is  the  other  way  over — 
But  now  England  hath  taken  me! 

I  had  my  horse,  my  shield  and  banner. 
And  a  boy's  heart,  so  whole  and  free; 

But  now  I  sing  in  another  manner — 
But  now  England  hath  taken  me  ! 

As  for  my  Father  in  his  tower. 

Asking  news  of  my  ship  at  sea; 

He  will  remember  his  own  hour — 
Tell  him  England  hath  taken  me! 

As  for  my  Mother  in  her  bower. 

That  rules  my  Father  so  cunningly; 

She  will  remember  a  maiden's  power — 
Tell  her  England  hath  taken  me! 

As  for  my  Brother  in  Rouen  city, 

A  nimble  and  naughty  page  is  he; 

But  he  will  come  to  suffer  and  pity — 
Tell  him  England  hath  taken  me! 

As  for  my  little  Sister  waiting 

In  the  pleasant  orchards  of  Normandie; 
Tell  her  youth  is  the  time  for  mating — 

TeU  her  England  hath  taken  me! 
55 


56  PUCK  OF  POOR'S  HILL 

As  for  my  Comrades  in  camp  and  highway, 
That  lift  their  eyebrows  scornfully; 

Tell  them  their  way  is  not  my  way — 
Tell  them  England  hath  taken  me! 

Kings  and  Princes  and  Barons  famed, 
Knights  and  Captains  in  your  degree; 

Hear  me  a  little  before  I  am  blamed — 
Seeing  England  hath  taken  me! 

How  so  great  man's  strength  be  reckoned, 
There  are  two  things  he  cannot  flee; 

Love  is  the  first,  and  Death  is  the  second — 
And  Love,  in  England,  hath  taken  me! 


THE  KNIGHTS  OF  THE  JOYOUS 
VENTURE 


HARP  SONG  OF  THE  DANE  WOMEN 


What  is  a  woman  that  you  forsake  her. 
And  the  hearth-fire  and  the  home-acre, 
To  go  with  the  old  grey  Widow-maker  f 


She  has  no  house  to  lay  a  guest  in — 

But  one  chill  bed  for  all  to  rest  in. 

That  the  pale  suns  and  the  stray  bergs  nest  in. 


She  has  no  strong  white  arms  to  fold  you, 
But  the  ten-times-fingering  weed  to  hold  you 
Bound  on  the  rocks  where  the  tide  has  rolled  you. 


Yet,  when  the  signs  of  summer  thicken, 

And  the  ice  breaks,  and  the  birch-buds  quicken, 

Yearly  you  turn  from  our  side,  and  sicken — 


Sicken  again  for  the  shouts  and  the  slaughters. 

You  steal  away  to  the  lapping  waters, 

And  look  at  your  ship  in  her  winter  quarters. 


You  forget  our  mirth,  and  talk  at  the  tables. 
The  kine  in  the  shed  and  the  horse  in  the  stables — 
To  pitch  her  sides  and  go  over  her  cables! 

59 


6o  PUCK  OF  POOR'S  HILL 

Then  you  drive  out  where  the  storm-clouds  swallow: 
And  the  sound  of  your  oar -blades  jailing  hollow, 
Is  all  we  have  left  through  the  months  to  follow! 


Ah,  what  is  Woman  that  you  forsake  her, 
And  the  hearth-fire  and  the  home-acre. 
To  go  with  the  old  grey  Widow-maker? 


THE  KNIGHTS  OF  THE  JOYOUS 
VENTURE 

TT  WAS  too  hot  to  run  about  in  the  open,  so 
■*•  Dan  asked  their  friend,  old  Hobden,  to  take 
their  own  dinghy  from  the  pond  and  put  her 
on  the  brook  at  the  bottom  of  the  garden.  Her 
painted  name  was  the  Daisy,  but  for  explor- 
ing expeditions  she  was  the  Golden  Hind  or 
the  Long  Serpent,  or  some  such  suitable  name. 
Dan  hiked  and  howked  with  a  boat-hook 
(the  brook  was  too  narrow  for  sculls),  and 
Una  punted  with  a  piece  of  hop-pole.  When 
they  came  to  a  very  shallow  place  (the  Golden 
Hind  drew  quite  three  inches  of  water)  they 
disembarked  and  scuffled  her  over  the  gravel  by 
her  tow-rope,  and  when  they  reached  the  over- 
grown banks  beyond  the  garden  they  pulled 
themselves  up  stream  by  the  low  branches. 
That  day  they  intended  to  discover  the 
North  Cape  like  'Othere,  the  old  sea-captain,' 
in  the  book  of  verses  which  Una  had  brought 
with  her;  but  on  account  of  the  heat  they 
changed  it  to  a  voyage  up  the  Amazon  and 
the  sources  of  the  Nile.  Even  on  the  shaded 
water  the  air  was  hot  and  heavy  with  drowsy 
scents,  while  outside,  through  breaks  in  the 
trees,  the  sunshine  burned  the  pasture  like  fire. 
The  kingfisher  was  asleep  on  his  watch ing- 
branch,  and  the  blackbirds  scarcely  took 
the   trouble  to   dive   into    the    next     bush. 

6i 


62  PUCK  OF  POOK'S  HILL 

Dragon-flies  wheeling  and  clashing  were  the 
only  things  at  work,  except  the  moor-hens 
and  a  big  Red  Admiral  who  flapped  down  out 
of  the  sunshine  for  a  drink. 

When  they  reached  Otter  Pool  the  Golden 
Hind  grounded  comfortably  on  a  shallow, 
and  they  lay  beneath  a  roof  of  close  green, 
watching  the  water  trickle  over  the  flood- 
gates down  the  mossy  brick  chute  from  the 
mill-stream  to  the  brook.  A  big  trout — the 
children  knew  him  well — rolled  head  and 
shoulders  at  some  fly  that  sailed  round  the 
bend,  while  once  in  just  so  often  the  brook 
rose  a  fraction  of  an  inch  against  all  the  wet 
pebbles,  and  they  watched  the  slow  draw  and 
shiver  of  a  breath  of  air  through  the  tree- tops. 
Then  the  little  voices  of  the  slipping  water 
began  again. 

'It's  like  the  shadows  talking,  isn't  it?' 
said  Una.  She  had  given  up  trying  to  read. 
Dan  lay  over  the  bows,  trailing  his  hands  in 
the  current.  They  heard  feet  on  the  gravel- 
bar  that  runs  half  across  the  pool  and  saw  Sir 
Richard    Dalyngridge    standing    over    them. 

'Was  yours  a  dangerous  voyage?'  he  asked, 
smiling. 

'  She  bumped  a  lot,  sir,'  said  Dan.  'There's 
hardly  any  water  this  summer.' 

'  Ah,  the  brook  was  deeper  and  wider  when 
my  children  played  at  Danish  pirates.  Are 
you  pirate-folk?" 

*  Oh,  no.  We  gave  up  being  pirates  years 
ago,'  explained  Una.  'We're  nearly  always 
explorers  now.  Sailing  round  the  world,  you 
know.' 


THE  JOYOUS  VENTURE  6 


3 


'Round? '  said  Sir  Richard.  He  sat  him  in 
the  comfortable  crotch  of  the  old  ash-root  on 
the  bank.     'How  can  it  be  round?' 

'  Wasn't  it  in  your  books  ? '  Dan  suggested. 
He  had  been  doing  geography  at  his  last 
lesson. 

'I  can  neither  write  nor  read,'  he  replied. 
'Canst  thou  read,  child?' 

'Yes,'  said  Dan,  'barring  the  very  long 
words.' 

'  Wonderful !  Read  to  me,  that  I  may  hear 
for  myself.' 

Dan  flushed,  but  opened  the  book  and 
began — gabbling  a  little — at  '  The  Discoverer 
of  the  North  Cape.' 

'  Othere,  the  old  sea  captain, 
Who  dwelt  in  Helgoland, 
To  Alfred,  lover  of  truth, 
Brought  a  snow-white  walrus  tooth, 
That  he  held  in  his  right  hand.' 

'But — ^but — this  I  know!  This  is  an  old 
song!  This  I  have  heard  sung!  This  is  a 
miracle,'  Sir  Richard  interrupted.  'Nay,  do 
not  stop!'  He  leaned  forward,  and  the 
shadows  of  the  leaves  slipped  and  slid  upon 
his  chain-mail. 

'  I  ploughed  the  land  with  horses, 
But  my  heart  was  ill  at  ease, 
For  the  old  sea-faring  men 
Came  to  me  now  and  then 
With  their  Sagas  of  the  Seas.' 

His  hand  fell  on  the  hilt  of  the  great  sword. 
'  This  is  truth,'  he  cried, '  for  so  did  it  happen  to 


64  PUCK  OF  POOR'S  HILL 

me,'    and   he   beat   time   delightedly   to    the 
tramp  of  verse  after  verse. 

'  "  And  now  the  land,"  said  Othere, 
"  Bent  southward  suddenly, 
And  I  followed  the  curving  shore, 
And  ever  southward  bore 
Into  a  nameless  sea."  ' 

'A  nameless  sea!'  he  repeated.  *  So  did  I — 
so  did  Hugh  and  I.' 

'Where  did  you  go?     Tell  us,'   said  Una. 

'Wait.  Let  me  hear  all  first.'  So  Dan  read 
to  the  poem's  very  end. 

'Good,'  said  the  knight.  'That  is  Othere's 
tale — even  as  I  have  heard  the  men  in  the 
Dane  ships  sing  it.  Not  in  those  same  valiant 
words,  but  something  like  to  them.' 

'Have  you  ever  explored  North?'  Dan 
shut  the  book. 

'Nay.  My  venture  was  South.  Farther 
South  than  any  man  has  fared,  Hugh  and  I 
went  down  with  Witta  and  his  heathen. '  He 
jerked  the  tall  sword  forward,  and  leaned  on 
it  with  both  hands;  but  his  eyes  looked  long 
past  them. 

'  i  thought  you  always  lived  here, '  said  Una, 
timidly. 

'  Yes  while  my  Lady  ^lueva  lived.  But 
she  died.  She  died.  Then,  my  eldest  son 
being  a  man,  I  asked  De  Aquila's  leave  that 
he  should  hold  the  Manor  while  I  went  on 
some  journey  or  pilgrimage — to  forget.  De 
Aquila,  whom  the  Second  William  had  made 
Warden  of  Pevensey  in  Earl  Mortain's  place, 
was  very  old  then,  but  still  he  rode  his  tall, 


THE  JOYOUS  VENTURE  65 

roan  horses,  and  in  the  saddle  he  looked  like 
a  little  white  falcon.  When  Hugh,  at  Dal- 
lington  over  yonder,  heard  what  I  did,  he  sent 
for  my  second  son,  whom  being  unmarried  he 
had  ever  looked  upon  as  his  own  child,  and, 
by  De  Aquila's  leave,  gave  him  the  Manor  of 
Dallington  to  hold  till  he  should  return.  Then 
Hugh  came  with  me.' 

'When  did  this  happen?'    said  Dan. 

*  That  I  can  answer  to  the  very  day,  for  as 
we  rode  with  De  Aquila  by  Pevensey — have 
I  said  that  he  was  Lord  of  Pevensey  and  of 
the  Honour  of  the  Eagle? — to  the  Bordeaux 
ship  that  fetched  him  his  wines  yearly  out  of 
France,  a  Marsh  man  ran  to  us  crying  that  he 
had  seen  a  great  black  goat  which  bore  on  his 
back  the  body  of  the  King,  and  that  the  goat 
had  spoken  to  him.  On  that  same  day  Red 
William  our  King,  the  Conqueror's  son,  died 
of  a  secret  arrow  while  he  hunted  in  a  forest. 
"This  is  a  cross  matter,"  said  De  Aquila, 
"to  meet  on  the  threshold  of  a  journey.  If 
Red  William  be  dead  I  may  have  to  fight  for 
my  lands.     Wait  a  little." 

'  My  Lady  being  dead,  I  cared  nothing  for 
signs  and  omens,  nor  Hugh  either.  We  took 
that  wine-ship  to  go  to  Bordeaux;  but  the 
wind  failed  while  we  were  yet  in  sight  of 
Pevensey;  a  thick  mist  hid  us,  and  we  drifted 
with  the  tide  along  the  cliffs  to  the  west. 
Our  company  was,  for  the  most  part,  mer- 
chants returning  to  France,  and  we  were  laden 
with  wool  and  there  were  three  couple  of  tall 
hunting-dogs  chained  to  the  rail.  Their  mas- 
ter was  a  knight  of  Artois.     His  name  I  never 


66  PUCK  OF  POOR'S  HILL 

learned,  but  his  shield  bore  gold  pieces  on  a 
red  ground,  and  he  limped  much  as  I  do,  from 
a  wound  which  he  had  got  in  his  youth  at 
Mantes  siege.  He  served  the  Duke  of  Bur- 
gundy against  the  Moors  in  Spain,  and  was 
returning  to  that  war  with  his  dogs.  He 
sang  us  strange  Moorish  songs  that  first  night, 
and  half  persuaded  us  to  go  with  him.  I  was 
on  pilgrimage  to  forget — which  is  what  no 
pilgrimage  brings.  I  think  I  would  have  gone, 
but  .  .  . 

*  Look  you  how  the  life  and  fortune  of  man 
changes !  Towards  morning  a  Dane  ship,  row- 
ing silently,  struck  against  us  in  the  mist, 
and  while  we  rolled  hither  and  yon  Hugh, 
leaning  over  the  rail,  fell  outboard.  I  leaped 
after  him,  and  we  two  tumbled  aboard  the 
Dane,  and  were  caught  and  bound  ere  we 
could  rise.  Our  own  ship  was  swallowed  up 
in  the  mist.  I  judge  the  Knight  of  the  Gold 
Pieces  muzzled  his  dogs  with  his  cloak,  lest 
they  should  give  tongue  and  betray  the  mer- 
chants, for  I  heard  their  baying  suddenly  stop. 

*We  lay  bound  among  the  benches  till 
morning,  when  the  Danes  dragged  us  to  the 
high  deck  by  the  steering-place,  and  their  cap- 
tain— Witta,  he  was  called — turned  us  over 
with  his  foot.  Bracelets  of  gold  from  elbow 
to  armpit  he  wore,  and  his  red  hair  was  long 
as  a  woman's,  and  came  down  in  plaited  locks 
on  his  shoulder.  He  was  stout,  with  bowed 
legs  and  long  arms.  He  spoiled  us  of  all  we 
had,  but  when  he  laid  hand  on  Hugh's  sword 
and  saw  the  runes  on  the  blade  hastily  he 
thrust  it  back.     Yet  his  covetousness  over- 


THE  JOYOUS  VENTURE  67 

came  him  and  he  tried  again  and  again,  and 
the  third  time  the  Sword  sang  loud  and 
angrily,  so  that  the  rowers  leaned  on  their 
oars  to  listen.  Here  they  all  spoke  together, 
screaming  like  gulls,  and  a  Yellow  Man,  such 
as  I  have  never  seen,  came  to  the  high  deck 
and  cut  our  bonds.  He  was  yellow — not 
from  sickness,  but  by  nature.  Yellow  as 
honey,  and  his  eyes  stood  endwise  in  his  head.' 

'How  do  you  mean?'  said  Una,  her  chin  on 
her  hand. 

'Thus,*  said  Sir  Richard.  He  put  a  finger 
to  the  comer  of  each  eye,  and  pushed  it  up 
till  his  eyes  narrowed  to  slits. 

'  Why,  you  look  just  like  a  Chinaman! '  cried 
Dan.    'Was  the  man  a  Chinaman?' 

*  I  know  not  what  that  may  be.  Witta  had 
found  him  half  dead  among  ice  on  the  shores 
of  Muscovy.  We  thought  he  was  a  devil. 
He  crawled  before  us  and  brought  food  in  a 
silver  dish  which  these  sea- wolves  had  robbed 
from  some  rich  abbey,  and  Witta  with  his 
own  hands  gave  us  wine.  He  spoke  a  little 
in  French,  a  little  in  South  Saxon,  and  much 
in  the  Northman's  tongue.  We  asked  him 
to  set  us  ashore,  promising  to  pay  him  better 
ransom  than  he  would  get  price  if  he  sold  us 
to  the  Moors — as  once  befell  a  knight  of  my 
acquaintance  sailing  from  Flushing. 

'"Not  by  my  father  Guthrum's  head," 
said  he.  "  The  Gods  sent  ye  into  my  ship  for 
a  luck-offering." 

'At  this  I  quaked,  for  I  knew  it  was  still  the 
Dane's  custom  to  sacrifice  captives  to  their 
gods  for  fair  weather. 


68  PUCK  OF  POOR'S  HILL 

*  "A  plague  on  thy  four  long  bones!" 
said  Hugh.  "What  profit  canst  thou  make 
of  poor  old  pilgrims  that  can  neither  work 
nor  fight?" 

'  "  Gods  forbid  I  should  fight  against  thee, 
poor  Pilgrim  with  the  Singing  Sword,"  said 
said  he.  "  Come  with  us  and  be  poor  no  more. 
Thy  teeth  are  far  apart,  which  is  a  sure  sign 
thou  wilt  travel  and  grow  rich." 

'  "What  if  we  will  not  come?"    said  Hugh. 

*  "  Swim  to  England  or  France,"  said  Witta. 
"We  are  midway  between  the  two.  Unless 
ye  choose  to  drown  yourselves  no  hair  of  your 
head  will  be  harmed  here  aboard.  We  think 
ye  bring  us  luck,  and  I  myself  know  the  runes 
on  that  Sword  are  good."  He  turned  and 
bade  them  hoist  sail. 

'Hereafter  all  made  way  for  us  as  we 
walked  about  the  ship,  and  the  ship  was  full 
of  wonders.' 

'What  was  she  like?'  said  Dan. 

*  Long,  low,  and  narrow,  bearing  one  mast 
with  a  red  sail,  and  rowed  by  fifteen  oars 
a  side,'  the  knight  answered.  'At  her  bows 
was  a  deck  under  which  men  might  lie, 
and  at  her  stem  another  shut  off  by  a  painted 
door  from  the  rowers'  benches.  Here  Hugh 
and  I  slept,  with  Witta  and  the  Yellow  Man, 
upon  tapestries  as  soft  as  wool.  I  remember ' 
—  he  laughed  to  himself  — '  when  first  we 
entered  there  a  loud  voice  cried,  "Out  swords! 
Out  swords!  Kill,  kill!'  Seeing  us  start 
Witta  laughed,  and  showed  us  it  was  but  a 
great-beaked  grey  bird  with  a  red  tail.  He 
sat  her  on  his  shoulder,  and  she  called  for 


THE  JOYOUS  VENTURE  69 

bread  and  wine  hoarsely,  and  prayed  him  to 
kiss  her.  Yet  she  was  no  more  than  a  silly 
bird.  But — ye  knew  this?'  He  looked  at 
their  smiling  faces. 

'We  weren't  laughing  at  you,'  said  Una. 
'  That  must  have  been  a  parrot.  It's  just  what 
Follies  do.' 

*  So  we  learned  later.  But  here  is  another 
marvel.  The  Yellow  Man,  whose  name  was 
Kitai,  had  with  him  a  brown  box.  In  the  box 
was  a  blue  bowl  with  red  marks  upon  the  rim, 
and  within  the  bowl,  hanging  from  a  fine 
thread,  was  a  piece  of  iron  no  thicker  than 
that  grass  stem,  and  as  long,  maybe,  as  my 
spur,  but  straight.  In  this  iron,  said  Witta, 
abode  an  Evil  Spirit  which  Kitai  the  Yellow 
Man,  had  brought  by  Art  Magic  out  of  his  own 
country  that  lay  three  years'  journey  south- 
ward. The  Evil  Spirit  strove  day  and  night 
to  return  to  his  country,  and  therefore,  look 
you,  the  iron  needle  pointed  continually  to 
the  South.' 

'South?'  said  Dan,  suddenly,  and  put  his 
hand  into  his  pocket. 

'  With  my  own  eyes  I  saw  it.  Every  day 
and  all  day  long,  though  the  ship  rolled, 
though  the  sun  and  the  moon  and  the  stars 
were  hid,  this  blind  Spirit  in  the  iron  knew 
whither  it  would  go,  and  strained  to  the 
South.  Witta  called  it  the  Wise  Iron,  be- 
cause it  showed  him  his  way  across  the  un- 
knowable seas.'  Again  Sir  Richard  looked 
keenly  at  the  children.  'How  think  ye? 
Was  it  sorcery  ? ' 

'Was  it  anything  like  this?'     Dan  fished 


70  PUCK  OF  POOR'S  HILL 

out  his  old  brass  pocket-compass,  that  gen- 
erally lived  with  his  knife  and  key-ring.  '  The 
glass  has  got  cracked,  but  the  needle  waggles 
all  right,  sir.' 

The  knight  drew  a  long  breath  of  wonder. 
'Yes,  yes.  The  Wise  Iron  shook  and  swung 
in  just  this  fashion.  Now  it  is  still.  Now 
it  points  to  the  South.' 

'North,'  said  Dan. 

'Nay,  South!  There  is  the  South,'  said  Sir 
Richard.  Then  they  both  laughed,  for  natur- 
ally when  one  end  of  a  straight  compass- 
needle  points  to  the  North,  the  other  must 
point  to  the  South. 

*T^,'  said  Sir  Richard,  clicking  his  tongue. 
*  There  can  be  no  sorcery  if  a  child  carries  it. 
Wherefore  does  it  point  South — or  North?' 

*  Father  says  that  nobody  knows,'  said  Una. 

Sir  Richard  looked  relieved.  *  Then  it  may 
still  be  magic.  It  was  magic  to  us.  And  so 
we  voyaged.  When  the  wind  served  we 
hoisted  sail,  and  lay  all  up  along  the  windw^ard 
rail,  our  shields  on  our  backs  to  break  the 
spray.  When  it  failed,  they  rowed  with  long 
oars;  the  Yellow  Man  sat  by  the  Wise  Iron, 
and  Witta  steered.  At  first  I  feared  the  great 
white- flowering  waves,  but  as  I  saw  how 
wisely  Witta  led  his  ship  among  them  I  grew 
bolder.  Hugh  liked  it  well  from  the  first. 
My  skill  is  not  upon  the  water;  and  rocks, 
and  whirlpools  such  as  we  saw  by  the  West 
Isles  of  France,  where  an  oar  caught  on  a  rock 
and  broke,  are  much  against  my  stomach. 
We  sailed  South  across  a  stormy  sea,  where  by 
moonlight,  between  clouds,  we  saw  a  Flanders 


THE  JOYOUS  VENTURE  71 

ship  roll  clean  over  and  sink.  Again,  though 
Hugh  laboured  with  Witta  all  night,  I  lay 
under  the  deck  with  the  Talking  Bird,  and 
cared  not  whether  I  lived  or  died.  There  is  a 
sickness  of  the  sea  which,  for  three  days,  is 
pure  death!  When  we  next  saw  land  Witta 
said  it  was  Spain,  and  we  stood  out  to  sea. 
That  coast  was  full  of  ships  busy  in  the  Duke's 
war  against  the  Moors,  and  we  feared  to  be 
hanged  by  the  Duke's  men  or  sold  into  slavery 
by  the  Moors.  So  we  put  into  a  small  harbour 
which  Witta  knew.  At  night  men  came  down 
with  loaded  mules,  and  Witta  exchanged  am- 
ber out  of  the  North  against  little  wedges  of 
iron  and  packets  of  beads  in  earthen  pots. 
The  pots  he  put  under  the  decks,  and  the 
wedges  of  iron  he  laid  on  the  bottom  of  the 
ship  after  he  had  cast  out  the  stones  and  shingle 
which  till  then  had  been  our  ballast.  Wine, 
too,  he  bought  for  lumps  of  sweet-smelling 
grey  amber — a  little  morsel  no  bigger  than  a 
thumbnail  purchased  a  cask  of  wine.  But 
I  speak  like  a  merchant.' 

'No,  no!  Tell  us  what  you  had  to  eat,* 
cried  Dan. 

*  Meat  dried  in  the  sun,  and  dried  fish  and 
ground  beans,  Witta  took  in;  and  corded 
frails  of  a  certain  sweet,  soft  fruit,  which  the 
Moors  use,  which  is  like  paste  of  figs,  but  with 
thin,  long  stones.     Aha!     Dates  is  the  name. 

'"Now,"  said  Witta,  when  the  ship  was 
loaded,  "  I  counsel  you  strangers,  to  pray  to 
your  gods,  for  from  here  on  our  road  is  No 
Man's  road."  He  and  his  men  killed  a  black 
goat  for  sacrifice  on  the  bows;  and  the  Yellow 


72  PUCK  OF  POOR'S  HILL 

Man  brought  out  a  small,  smiling  image  of 
dull-green  glass  and  burned  incense  before  it. 
Hugh  and  I  commended  ourselves  to  God, 
and  Saint  Bartholomew,  and  Our  Lady  of 
the  Assumption,  who  was  specially  dear  to 
my  Lady.  We  were  not  young,  but  I  think 
no  shame  to  say,  when  as  we  drove  out  of  that 
secret  harbour  at  sunrise  over  a  still  sea,  we 
two  rejoiced  and  sang  as  did  the  knights  of 
old  when  they  followed  our  great  Duke  to 
England.  Yet  was  our  leader  an  heathen 
pirate;  all  our  proud  fleet  but  one  galley 
perilously  overloaded ;  for  guidance  we  leaned 
on  a  pagan  sorcerer ;  and  our  port  was  beyond 
the  world's  end.  Witta  told  us  that  his 
father  Guthrum  had  once  in  his  life  rowed 
along  the  shores  of  Africa  to  a  land  where 
naked  men  sold  gold  for  iron  and  beads. 
There  had  he  bought  much  gold,  and  no  few 
elephants'  teeth,  and  thither  by  help  of  the 
Wise  Iron  would  Witta  go.  Witta  feared 
nothing — except  to  be  poor. 

'  "  My  father  told  me,"  said  Witta,  "  that  a 
great  Shoal  runs  three  days'  sail  out  from  that 
land,  and  south  of  the  shoal  lies  a  Forest 
which  grows  in  the  sea.  South  and  east  of  the 
Forest  my  father  came  to  a  place  where  the 
men  hid  gold  in  their  hair;  but  all  that  coun- 
try, he  said,  was  full  of  Devils  who  lived  in 
trees,  and  tore  folk  limb  from  limb.  How 
think  ye?" 

'"Gold  or  no  gold,"  said  Hugh,  fingering 
his  sword,  "  it  is  a  joyous  venture.  Have  at 
these  devils  of  thine,  Witta!" 

'"Venture!"    said  Witta,   sourly.     "I   am 


THE  JOYOUS  VENTURE  73 

only  a  poor  sea-thief.  I  do  not  set  my  life 
adrift  on  a  plank  for  joy,  or  the  venture. 
Once  I  beach  ship  again  at  Stavanger,  and 
feel  the  wife's  arms  round  my  neck,  I'll  seek 
no  more  ventures.  A  ship  is  heavier  care  than 
a  wife  or  cattle." 

'  He  leaped  down  among  the  rowers,  chiding 
them  for  their  little  strength  and  their  great 
stomachs.  Yet  Witta  was  a  wolf  in  fight,  and 
a  very  fox  in  cunning. 

'  We  were  driven  South  by  a  storm,  and  for 
three  days  and  three  nights  he  took  the  stern- 
oar  and  threddled  the  longship  through  the 
sea.  When  it  rose  beyond  measure  he  brake 
a  pot  of  whale's  oil  upon  the  water,  which 
wonderfully  smoothed  it,  and  in  that  anointed 
patch  he  turned  her  head  to  the  wind  and 
threw  out  oars  at  the  end  of  a  rope,  to  make, 
he  said,  an  anchor  at  which  we  lay  rolling 
sorely,  but  dry.  This  craft  his  father  Guth- 
rum  had  shown  him.  He  knew,  too,  all  the 
Leech-Book  of  Bald,  who  was  a  wise  doctor, 
and  he  knew  the  Ship-Book  of  Hlaf  the 
Woman,  who  robbed  Egypt.  He  knew  all 
the  care  of  a  ship. 

'  After  the  storm  we  saw  a  mountain  whose 
top  was  covered  with  snow  and  pierced  the 
clouds.  The  grasses  under  this  mountain, 
boiled  and  eaten,  are  a  good  cure  for  soreness 
of  the  gums  and  swelled  ankles.  We  lay 
there  eight  days,  till  men  in  skins  threw  stones 
at  us.  When  the  heat  increased  Witta  spread 
a  cloth  on  bent  sticks  above  the  rowers,  for 
the  wind  failed  between  the  Island  of  the 
Mountain  and  the  shore  of  Africa,  which  is 


74  PUCK  OF  POOR'S  HILL 

east  of  it.  That  shore  is  sandy,  and  we  rowed 
along  it  within  three  bowshots.  Here  we 
saw  whales,  and  fish  in  the  shape  of  shields, 
but  longer  than  our  ship.  Some  slept,  some 
opened  their  mouths  at  us,  and  some  danced 
on  the  hot  waters.  The  water  was  hot  to  the 
hand,  and  the  sky  was  hidden  by  hot,  grey 
mists,  out  of  which  blew  a  fine  dust  that 
whitened  our  hair  and  beards  of  a  morning. 
Here,  too,  were  fish  that  flew  in  the  air  like 
birds.  They  would  fall  on  the  laps  of  the 
rowers,  and  when  we  went  ashore  we  would 
roast  and  eat  them. ' 

The  knight  paused  to  see  if  the  children 
doubted  him,  but  they  only  nodded  and  said, 
'Go  on. ' 

'The  yellow  land  lay  on  our  left,  the  grey 
sea  on  our  right.  Knight  though  I  was,  I 
pulled  my  oar  amongst  the  rowers.  I  caught 
seaweed  and  dried  it,  and  stuffed  it  between 
the  pots  of  beads  lest  they  should  break. 
Knighthood  is  for  the  land .  At  sea ,  look  you,  a 
man  is  but  a  spurless  rider  on  a  bridleless  horse. 
I  learned  to  make  strong  knots  in  ropes — 
yes,  and  to  join  two  ropes  end  to  end,  so  that 
even  Witta  could  scarcely  see  where  they  had 
been  married.  But  "^lugh  had  tenfold  more 
sea-cunning  than  L  Witta  gave  him  charge 
of  the  rowers  of  the  left  side.  Thorkild  of 
Borkum,  a  man  with  a  broken  nose,  that 
wore  a  Norman  steel  cap,  had  the  rowers  of 
the  right,  and  each  side  rowed  and  sang  against 
the  other.  They  saw  that  no  man  was  idle. 
Truly,  as  Hugh  said,  and  Witta  would  laugh 
at  him,  a  ship  is  all  more  care  than  a  Manor. 


THE  JOYOUS  VENTURE  75 

'How?  Thus.  There  was  water  to  fetch 
from  the  shore  when  we  could  find  it,  as  well 
as  wild  fruit  and  grasses,  and  sand  for  scrub- 
bing of  the  decks  and  benches  to  keep  them 
sweet.  Also  we  hauled  the  ship  out  on  low 
islands  and  emptied  all  her  gear,  even  to  the 
iron  wedges,  and  burned  off  the  weed,  that 
had  grown  on  her,  with  torches  of  rush, 
and  smoked  below  the  decks  with  rushes 
dampened  in  salt  water,  as  Hlaf  the  Woman 
orders  in  her  Ship-Book.  Once  when  we 
were  thus  stripped,  and  the  ship  lay 
propped  on  her  keel,  the  bird  cried, 
"  Out  swords  !  "  as  though  she  saw  an 
enemy.  Witta  vowed  he  would  wring  her 
neck. ' 

'  Poor  Polly !     Did  he  ? '  said  Una. 

'  Nay.  She  was  the  ship's  bird.  She  could 
call  all  the  rowers  by  name.  .  .  .  Those 
were  good  days — for  a  wifeless  man — with 
Witta  and  his  heathen — beyond  the  world's  end. 
.  .  .  After  many  weeks  we  came  on  the  Great 
Shoal  which  stretched,  as  Witta' s  father  had 
said,  far  out  to  sea.  We  skirted  it  till  we  were 
giddy  with  the  sight  and  dizzy  with  the  sound 
of  bars  and  breakers;  and  when  we  reached 
land  again  we  found  a  naked  black  people 
dwelling  among  woods,  who  for  one  wedge  of 
iron  loaded  us  with  fruits  and  grasses  and 
eggs.  Witta  scratched  his  head  at  them  in 
sign  he  would  buy  gold.  They  had  no  gold, 
but  they  understood  the  sign  (all  the  gold- 
traders  hide  their  gold  in  their  thick  hair), 
for  they  pointed  along  the  coast.  They  beat, 
too,  on  their  chests  with  their  clenched  hands, 


76  PUCK  OF  POOR'S  HILL 

and  that,  if  we  had  known  it,  was  an  evil 
sign. ' 

'  What  did  it  mean? '  said  Dan. 

'  Patience.  Ye  shall  hear.  We  followed 
the  coast  eastward  sixteen  days  (counting 
time  by  sword-cuts  on  the  helm-rail)  till  we 
came  to  the  Forest  in  the  Sea.  Trees  grew 
out  of  mud,  arched  upon  lean  and  high  roots, 
and  many  muddy  water-ways  ran  allwhither 
into  darkness  under  the  trees.  Here  we  lost 
the  sun.  We  followed  the  winding  channels 
between  the  trees,  and  where  where  we  could 
not  row  we  laid  hold  of  the  crusted  roots  and 
hauled  ourselves  along.  The  water  was  foul, 
and  great  glittering  flies  tormented  us.  Mor- 
ning and  evening  a  blue  mist  covered  the 
mud,  which  bred  fevers.  Four  of  our  rowers 
sickened,  and  were  bound  to  their  benches, 
lest  they  should  leap  overboard  and  be  eaten 
by  the  monsters  of  the  mud.  The  Yellow 
Man  lay  sick  beside  the  Wise  Iron,  rolling  his 
head  and  talking  in  his  own  tongue.  Only 
the  Bird  throve.  She  sat  on  Witta's  shoulder 
and  screamed  in  that  noisome,  silent  darkness. 
Yes;  I  think  it  was  the  silence  we  feared.' 

He  paused  to  listen  to  the  comfortable  home 
noises  of  the  brook. 

'When  we  had  lost  count  of  time  among 
those  black  gullies  and  swashes,  we  heard,  as  it 
were,  a  drum  beat  far  off,  and  following  it 
we  broke  into  a  broad,  brown  river  by  a  hut 
in  a  clearing  among  fields  of  pumkins.  We 
thanked  God  to  see  the  sun  again.  The  people 
of  the  village  gave  the  good  welcome,  and 
Witta  scratched  his  head  at  them  (for  gold), 


THE  JOYOUS  VENTURE  77 

and  showed  them  our  iron  and  beads.  They 
ran  to  the  bank — we  were  still  in  the  ship — and 
pointed  to  our  swords  and  bows,  for  always 
when  near  shore  w^e  lay  armed.  Soon  they 
fetched  store  of  gold  in  bars  and  in  dust  from 
their  huts,  and  some  great  blackened  elephant 
teeth.  These  they  piled  on  the  bank,  as  though 
to  tempt  us,  and  made  signs  of  dealing  blows 
in  battle,  and  pointed  up  to  the  tree  tops,  and 
to  the  forest  behind.  Their  captain  or  chief 
sorcerer  then  beat  on  his  chest  with  his  fists, 
and  gnashed  his  teeth. 

'  Said  Thorkild  of  Borkum:  "  Do  they  mean 
we  must  fight  for  all  this  gear?"  and  he  half 
drew  his  sword. 

'"Nay,"  said  Hugh.  "I  think  they  ask 
us  to  league  against  some  enemy.  " 

'  "  I  like  this  not,  "  said  Witta,  of  a  sudden. 
"  Back  into  midstream.  " 

'  So  we  did,  and  sat  still  all,  watching  the 
black  folk  and  the  gold  they  piled  on  the  bank. 
Again  we  heard  drums  beat  in  the  forest,  and 
the  people  fled  to  their  huts,  leaving  the 
gold  unguarded. 

'  Then  Hugh,  at  the  bows,  pointed  without 
speech,  and  we  saw  a  great  Devil  come  out 
of  the  forest.  He  shaded  his  brows  with 
his  hand,  and  moistened  his  pink  tongue 
between  his  lips — thus. ' 

'A  Devil!'  said  Dan,  delightfully  horrified. 

'Yea.  Taller  than  a  man;  covered  with 
reddish  hair.  When  he  had  well  regarded 
our  ship,  he  beat  on  his  chest  with  his  fists  till 
it  sounded  like  rolling  drums,  and  came  to  the 
bank  swinging  all  his  body  between  his  long 


78  PUCK  OF  POOR'S  HILL 

arms,  and  gnashed  his  teeth  at  us.  Hugh 
loosed  arrow,  and  pierced  him  through  the 
throat.  He  fell  roaring,  and  three  other 
Devils  ran  out  of  the  forest  and  hauled  him 
into  a  tall  tree  out  of  sight.  Anon  they  cast 
down  the  blood-stained  arrow,  and  lamented 
together  among  the  leaves.  Witta  saw  the 
gold  on  the  bank;  he  was  loath  to  leave  it. 
"  Sirs,  "  said  he  (no  man  had  spoken  till  then), 
"  yonder  is  that  we  have  come  so  far  and  so 
painfully  to  find,  laid  out  to  our  very  hand. 
Let  us  row  in  while  these  Devils  bewail  them- 
selves, and  at  least  bear  off  what  we  may.  " 

'Bold  as  a  wolf,  cunning  as  a  fox  was  Witta! 
He  set  four  archers  on  the  foredeck  to  shoot 
the  Devils  if  they  should  leap  from  the  tree, 
which  Vv^as  close  to  the  bank.  He  manned 
ten  oars  a  side,  and  bade  them  watch  his  hand 
to  row  in  or  back  out,  and  so  coaxed  he  them 
toward  the  bank.  But  none  would  set  foot 
ashore,  though  the  gold  was  w^ithin  ten  paces. 
No  man  is  hasty  to  his  hanging.  They  whim- 
pered at  their  oars  like  beaten  hounds,  and 
Witta  bit  his  fingers  for  rage. 

'Said  Hugh  of  a  sudden,  "Hark!"  At 
first  we  thought  it  was  the  buzzing  of  the 
glittering  flies  on  the  water,  but  it  grew  loud 
and  fierce,  so  that  all  men  heard. ' 

'  What  ? '  said  Dan  and  Una. 

'It  was  the  sword.'  Sir  Richard  patted 
the  smooth  hilt.  '  It  sang  as  a  Dane  sings 
before  battle.  "  I  go, "  said  Hugh,  and  he 
leaped  from  the  bows  and  fell  among  the  gold. 
I  was  afraid  to  my  four  bones'  marrow,  but 
for  shame's  sake  I  followed,  and  Thorkild  of 


THE  JOYOUS  VENTURE  79 

Borktim  leaped  after  me.  None  other  came. 
"  Blame  me  not, "  cried  Witta  behind  us, 
"  I  must  abide  by  my  ship.  "  We  three  had 
no  time  to  blame  or  praise.  We  stooped 
to  the  gold  and  threw  it  back  over  our 
shoulders,  one  hand  on  our  swords  and  one 
eye  on  the  tree,  which  nigh  overhung  us. 

*  I  know  not  how  the  Devils  leaped  down,  or 
how  the  fight  began.  I  heard  Hugh  cry :  "  Out ! 
out!"  as  though  he  were  at  Santlache  again; 
I  saw  Thorkild's  steel  cap  smitten  off  his  head 
by  a  great  hairy  hand,  and  I  felt  an  arrow 
from  the  ship  whistle  past  my  ear.  They  say 
that  till  Witta  took  his  sword  to  the  rowers  he 
could  not  bring  his  ship  in  shore;  and  each 
one  of  the  four  archers  said  afterwards  that 
he  alone  had  pierced  the  Devil  that  fought  me. 
I  do  not  know.  I  went  to  it  in  my  mail-shirt, 
which  saved  my  skin.  With  long-sword  and 
belt-dagger  I  fought  for  the  life  against  a 
Devil  whose  very  feet  were  hands,  and  who 
whirled  me  back  and  forth  like  a  dead  branch. 
He  had  me  by  the  waist,  my  arms  to  my  side, 
when  an  arrow  from  the  ship  pierced  him 
between  the  shoulders,  and  he  loosened  grip. 
I  passed  my  sword  twice  through  him,  and 
he  crutched  himself  away  between  his  long 
arms,  coughing  and  moaning.  Next,  as  I 
remember,  I  saw  Thorkild  of  Borkum  bare- 
headed and  smiling,  leaping  up  and  down 
before  a  Devil  that  leaped  and  gnashed  his 
teeth.  Then  Hugh  passed,  his  sword  shifted 
to  his  left  hand,  and  I  wondered  why  I  had 
not  known  that  Hugh  was  a  left-handed  man ; 
and  thereafter  I   remembered  nothing  till  I 


8o  PUCK  OF  POOR'S  HILL 

felt  spray  on  my  face,  and  we  were  in  sun- 
shine on  the  open  sea.  That  was  twenty  days 
after.' 

'What  had  happened?  Did  Hugh  die?' 
the  children  asked. 

'  Never  was  such  a  fight  fought  by  christened 
man,'  said  Sir  Richard.  'An  arrow  from  the 
ship  had  saved  me  from  my  Devil,  and  Thor- 
kild  of  Borkum  had  given  back  before  his 
Devil,  till  the  bowmen  on  the  ship  could 
shoot  it  all  full  of  arrows  from  near  by;  but 
Hugh's  Devil  was  cunning,  and  had  kept 
behind  trees,  where  no  arrow  could  reach. 
Body  to  body  there,  by  stark  strength  of 
sword  and  hand,  had  Hugh  slain  him,  and, 
dying,  the  Thing  had  clenched  his  teeth  on 
the  sword.     Judge  what  teeth  they  were!' 

Sir  Richard  turned  the  sword  again  that  the 
children  might  see  the  two  great  chiselled 
gouges  on  either  side  of  the  blade. 

'  Those  same  teeth  met  in  Hugh's  right  arm 
and  side,'  Sir  Richard  went  on.  'I?  Oh,  I 
had  no  more  than  a  broken  foot  and  a  fever. 
Thorkild's  ear  was  bitten,  but  Hugh's  arm 
and  side  clean  withered  away.  I  saw  him 
where  he  lay  along,  sucking  a  fruit  in  his  left 
hand.  His  flesh  was  wasted  off  his  bones, 
his  hair  was  patched  with  white,  and  his  hand 
was  blue-veined  like  a  woman's.  He  put  his 
left  hand  round  my  neck  and  whispered, 
"Take  my  sword.  It  has  been  thine  since 
Hastings,  O,  my  brother,  but  I  can  never  hold 
hilt  again."  We  lay  there  on  the  high  deck 
talking  of  Santlache  and,  I  think,  of  every 
day  since  Santlache,  and  it  came  so  that  we 


THE  JOYOUS  VENTURE  8i 

both  wept.  I  was  weak,  and  he  Httle  more 
than  a  shadow. 

'"Nay — nay,"  said  Witta,  at  the  helm- 
rail.  "  Gold  is  a  good  right  arm  to  any  man. 
Look— look  at  the  gold!"  He  bade  Thorkild 
show  us  the  gold  and  the  elephants'  teeth,  as 
though  we  had  been  children.  He  had 
brought  away  all  the  gold  on  the  bank,  and 
twice  as  much  more,  that  the  people  of  the 
village  gave  him  for  slaying  the  Devils. 
They  worshipped  us  as  gods,  Thorkild  told  me: 
it  was  one  of  their  old  women  healed  up 
Hugh's  poor  arm.' 

'How  much  gold  did  you  get?'  asked  Dan. 

'  How  can  I  say?  Where  we  came  out  with 
wedges  of  iron  under  the  rowers'  feet  we  re- 
turned with  wedges  of  gold  hidden  beneath 
planks.  There  was  dust  of  gold  in  packages 
where  we  slept;  and  along  the  side  and  cross- 
wise under  the  benches  we  lashed  the  black- 
ened elephants'  teeth. 

"'I  had  sooner  have  my  right  arm,"  said 
Hugh,  when  he  had  seen  all. 

*"Ahai!  That  was  my  fault,"  said  Witta. 
"  I  should  have  taken  ransom  and  landed  you 
in  France  when  first  you  came  aboard,  ten 
months  ago." 

'  "  It  is  over-late  now,"  said  Hugh,  laughing. 

'  Witta  plucked  at  his  long  shoulder-lock. 
"  But  think!"  said  he.  "  If  I  had  let  ye  go— 
which  I  swear  I  would  never  have  done,  for  I 
love  ye  more  than  brothers — if  I  had  let  ye 
go,  by  now  ye  might  have  been  horribly  slain 
by  some  mere  Moor  in  the  Duke  of  Burgundy's 
war,   or  ye  might  have  been  murdered   by 


82  PUCK  OF  POOK'S  HILL 

land-thieves,  or  ye  might  have  died  of  the 
plague  at  an  inn.  Think  of  this  and  do  not 
blame  me  overmuch,  Hugh.  See!  I  will 
only  take  a  half  of  the  gold." 

*"I  blame  thee  not  at  all,  Witta,"  said 
Hugh.  "  It  was  a  joyous  venture,  and  we 
thirty-five  here  have  done  what  never  men 
have  done.  If  I  live  till  England,  I  will 
build  me  a  stout  keep  over  Dallington  out  of 
my  share." 

* "  I  will  buy  cattle  and  amber  and  warm 
red  cloth  for  the  wife,"  said  Witta,  "and  I 
will  hold  all  the  land  at  the  head  of  Stavanger 
Fiord.  Many  will  fight  for  me  now.  But 
first  we  must  turn  North,  and  with  this  honest 
treasure  aboard  I  pray  we  meet  no  pirate 
ships." 

*  We  did  not  laugh.  We  were  careful.  We 
were  afraid  lest  we  should  lose  one  grain  of 
our  gold  for  which  we  had  fought   Devils. 

'"Where  is  the  Sorcerer?"  said  I,  for 
Witta  was  looking  at  the  Wise  Iron  in  the 
box,  and  I  could  not  see  the  Yellow  Man. 

'  "  He  has  gone  to  his  own  country,"  said  he. 
**  He  rose  up  in  the  night  while  we  were  beat- 
ing out  of  that  forest  in  the  mud,  and  said 
that  he  could  see  it  behind  the  trees.  He 
leaped  out  on  to  the  mud,  and  did  not  answer 
when  we  called;  so  we  called  no  more.  He 
left  the  Wise  Iron,  which  is  all  that  I  care  for 
— and  see,  the  Spirit  still  points  to  the  South!" 

'We  were  troubled  for  fear  that  the  Wise 
Iron  should  fail  us  now  that  its  Yellow  Man 
had  gone,  and  when  we  saw  the  Spirit  still 
served  us  we  grew  afraid  of  too  strong  winds, 


THE  JOYOUS  VENTURE  83 

and  of  shoals,  and  of  careless  leaping  fish, 
and  of  all  the  people  on  all  the  shores  where 
we  landed.' 

'Why?'  said  Dan. 

'Because  of  the  gold— because  of  our  gold. 
Gold  changes  men  altogether.  Thorkild  of 
Borkum  did  not  change.  He  laughed  at 
Witta  for  his  fears,  and  at  us  for  cur  coun- 
selling Witta  to  furl  sail  when  the  ship 
pitched  at  all. 

'"Better  be  drowned  out  of  hand,"  said 
Thorkild  of  Borkum,  "  than  go  tied  to  a  deck- 
load  of  yellow  dust." 

*  He  was  a  landless  man,  and  had  been  slave 
to  some  King  in  the  East.  He  would  have 
beaten  out  the  gold  into  deep  bands  to  put 
round  the  oars,  and  round  the  prow. 

*  Yet,  though  he  vexed  himself  for  the  gold, 
Witta  waited  upon  Hugh  like  a  woman,  lend- 
ing him  his  shoulder  when  the  ship  rolled,  and 
tying  of  ropes  from  side  to  side  that  Hugh 
might  hold  by  them.  But  for  Hugh,  he  said 
— and  so  did  all  his  men — they  would  never 
have  won  the  gold.  I  remember  Witta  made 
a  little,  thin  gold  ring  for  our  Bird  to  swing  in. 
Three  months  we  rowed  and  sailed  and 
went  ashore  for  fruits  or  to  clean  the  ship. 
When  we  saw  wild  horsemen,  riding  among 
sand-dunes,  flourishing  spears  we  knew  we 
were  on  the  Moors'  coast,  and  stood  over  north 
to  Spain;  and  a  strong  south-west  wind  bore 
us  in  ten  days  to  a  coast  of  high  red  rocks, 
where  we  heard  a  hunting-horn  blow  among 
the  yellow  gorse  and  knew  it  was  England. 

'"Now  find  ye  Pevensey  yourselves,"  said 


84  PUCK  OF  POOR'S  HILL 

Witta.     "  I  love  not  these  narrow  ship-filled 
seas." 

*  He  set  the  dried,  salted  head  of  the  Devil, 
which  Hugh  had  killed,  high  on  our  prow,  and 
all  boats  fled  from  us.  Yet,  for  our  gold's 
sake,  we  were  more  afraid  than  they.  We 
crept  along  the  coast  by  night  till  we  came  to 
the  chalk  cliffs,  and  so  east  to  Pevensey. 
Witta  would  not  come  ashore  with  us,  though 
Hugh  promised  him  wine  at  Dallington 
enough  to  swim  in.  He  was  on  fire  to  see  his 
wife,  and  ran  into  the  Marsh  after  sunset,  and 
there  he  left  us  and  our  share  of  gold,  and 
backed  out  on  the  same  tide.  He  made  no 
promise ;  he  swore  no  oath ;  he  looked  for  no 
thanks;  but  to  Hugh,  an  armless  man,  and  to 
me,  an  old  cripple  whom  he  could  have  flung 
into  the  sea,  he  passed  over  wedge  upon  wedge, 
packet  upon  packet  of  gold  and  dust  of  gold, 
and  only  ceased  when  we  would  take  no  more. 
As  he  stooped  from  the  rail  to  bid  us  farewell 
he  stripped  off  his  right-arm  bracelets  and  put 
them  all  on  Hugh's  left,  and  he  kissed  Hugh 
on  the  cheek.  I  think  when  Thorkild  of 
Borkum  bade  the  rowers  give  way  we  were 
near  weeping.  It  is  true  that  Witta  was  an 
heathen  and  a  pirate;  true  it  is  he  held  us  by 
force  many  months  in  his  ship,  but  I  loved 
that  bow-legged,  blue-eyed  man  for  his  great 
boldness,  his  cunning,  his  skill,  and,  beyond 
all,  for  his  simplicity.' 

'  Did  he  get  home  all  right?'   said  Dan. 

*  I  never  knew.  We  saw  him  hoist  sail  under 
the  moon-track  and  stand  away.  I  have 
prayed  that  he  found  his  wife  and  the  children. ' 


THE  JOYOUS  VENTURE  85 

'  And  what  did  you  do  ? ' 

'We  waited  on  the  Marsh  till  the  day. 
Then  I  sat  by  the  gold,  all  tied  in  an  old  sail, 
while  Hugh  went  to  Pevensey,  and  De  Aquila 
sent  us  horses.' 

Sir  Richard  crossed  hands  on  his  sword- 
hilt,  and  stared  down  stream  through  the 
soft  warm  shadows. 

'A  whole  shipload  of  gold!  said  Una,  look- 
ing at  the  little  Golden  Hind.  'But  I'm  glad 
I  didn't  see  the  Devils.' 

'I  don't  believe  they  were  Devils,*  Dan 
whispered  back. 

'Eh?'  said  Sir  Richard.  'Witta's  father 
warned  him  they  were  unquestionable  Devils. 
One  must  believe  one's  father,  and  not  one's 
children.     What  were  my  Devils,  then?' 

Dan  flushed  all  over.  'I — I  only  thought,  * 
he  stammered;  'I've  got  a  book  called  The 
Gorilla  Hunters — it's  a  continuation  of  Coral 
Island,  sir — and  it  says  there  that  the  gorillas 
(they're  big  monkeys,  you  know)  were  always 
chewing  iron  up. ' 

'Not  always,'  said  Una.  'Only  twice.' 
They  had  been  reading  The  Gorilla  Hunters 
in  the  orchard. 

'Well,  anyhow,  they  always  drummed  on 
their  chests,  like  Sir  Richard's  did,  before 
they  went  for  people.  And  they  built  houses 
in  trees,  too. ' 

*  Ha ! '  Sir  Richard  opened  his  eyes.  '  Houses 
like  flat  nests  did  our  Devils  make,  where 
their  imps  lay  and  looked  at  us.  I  did  not 
see  them  (I  was  sick  after  the  fight),  but 
Witta  told  me  and,  lo,  ye  know  it  also  ?     Won- 


86  PUCK  OF  POOR'S   HILL 

derful!  Were  our  Devils  only  nest-building 
apes?     Is  there  no  sorcery  left  in  the  world?' 

'I  don't  know,'  answered  Dan,  uncomfor- 
tably. 'I've  seen  a  man  take  rabbits  out  of  a 
hat,  and  he  told  us  we  could  see  how  he  did 
it,  if  we  watched  hard.     And  we  did.' 

'But  we  didn't,'  said  Una  sighing.  'Oh! 
there's  Puck! ' 

The  little  fellow,  brown  and  smiling,  peered 
between  two  stems  of  an  ash,  nodded,  and  slid 
down  the  bank  into  the  cool  beside  them. 

'No  sorcery.  Sir  Richard?'  he  laughed,  and 
blew  on  a  full  dandelion  head  he  had  picked. 

'  They  tell  me  that  Witta's  Wise  Iron  was  a 
toy.  The  boy  carries  such  an  Iron  with  him. 
They  tell  me  our  Devils  were  apes,  called 
gorillas ! '  said  Sir  Richard,  indignantly. 

'That  is  the  sorcery  of  books,'  said  Puck. 
'  I  warned  thee  they  were  wise  children.  All 
people  can  be  wise  by  reading  of  books.' 

'But  are  the  books  true?'  Sir  Richard 
frowned.  'I  like  not  all  this  reading  and 
writing.' 

'  Ye-es,'  said  Puck,  holding  the  naked  dande- 
lion head  at  arm's  length.  'But  if  we  hang 
all  fellows  who  write  falsely,  why  did  De 
Aquila  not  begin  with  Gilbert,  the  Clerk  ?  He 
was  false  enough. ' 

'  Poor  false  Gilbert.  Yet  in  his  fashion,  he 
was  bold, '  said  Sir  Richard. 

'  What  did  he  do? '  said  Dan. 

'He  wTote,'  said  Sir  Richard.  'Is  the  tale 
meet  for  children,  think  you?'  He  looked  at 
Puck;  but,  'Tell  us!  Tell  us!'  cried  Dan  and 
Una  together. 


THORKILD'S  SONG 

There  is  no  wind  along  these  seas. 

Out  oars  for  Stavanger! 

Forward  all  for  Stavanger! 
So  we  must  wake  the  white-ash  breeze, 

Let  fall  for  Stavanger! 

A  long  pull  for  Stavanger! 

Oh,  hear  the  benches  creak  and  strain! 

(A  long  pull  for  Stavanger!) 
She  thinks  she  smells  the  Northland  rain! 

(A  long  pull  for  Stavanger !) 

She  thinks  she  smells  the  Northland  snow. 
And  she's  as  glad  as  we  to  go! 

She  thinks  she  smells  the  Northland  rime. 
And  the  dear  dark  nights  of  winter-time. 

Her  very  bolts  are  sick  for  shore, 
And  we — we  want  it  ten  times  more! 

Hoe — all  you  Gods  that  love  brave  m£n. 
Send  us  a  three-reef  gale  again! 

Send  us  a  gale,  and  watch  us  come. 
With  close-cropped  canvas  slashing  home! 

But — there  s  no  wind  in  all  these  seas, 

A  long  pull  for  Stavanger! 
So  we  must  wake  the  white-ash  breeze, 

A  long  pull  for  Stavanger! 
87 


OLD   MEN  AT  PEVENSEY 


OLD  MEN  AT  PEVENSEY 


IT  HAS  nought  to  do  with  apes  or  devils,' 
Sir  Richard  went  on,  in  an  undertone. 
'It  concerns  De  Aquila,  than  whom  there  was 
never  bolder  nor  craftier,  nor  more  hardy- 
knight  born.  And,  remember,  he  was  an  old, 
old  man  at  that  time.' 

'When?'  said  Dan. 

'When  we   came  back  from   sailing  with 
Witta.' 

*  What  did  you  do  with  your  gold  ? '  said  Dan. 

'Have  patience.  Link  by  link  is  chain- 
mail  made.  I  will  tell  all  in  its  place.  We 
bore  the  gold  to  Pevensey  on  horseback — three 
loads  of  it — and  then  up  to  the  north  chamber, 
above  the  Great  Hall  of  Pevensey  Castle, 
where  De  Aquila  lay  in  winter.  He  sat  on 
his  bed  like  a  little  white  falcon,  turning  his 
head  swiftly  from  one  to  the  other  as  we  told 
our  tale.  Jehan  the  Crab,  an  old  sour  man- 
at-arms,  guarded  the  stairway,  but  De  Aquila 
bade  him  wait  at  the  stair-foot,  and  let  down 
both  leather  curtains  over  the  door.  It  was 
Jehan  whom  De  Aquila  had  sent  to  us  with 
the  horses,  and  only  Jehan  had  loaded  the  gold. 
When  our  story  was  told,  De  Aquila  gave  us 
the  news  of  England,  for  we  were  as  men 
waked  from  a  year-long  sleep.  The  Red 
King  was  dead — slain  (ye  remember?)  the 
day   we   set   sail — and   Henry,    his   younger 


92  PUCK  OF  POOR'S  HILL 

brother,  had  made  himself  King  of  England 
over  the  head  of  Robert  of  Normandy.  This 
was  the  very  thing  that  the  Red  King  had  done 
to  Robert  when  our  Great  William  died.  Then 
Robert  of  Normandy,  mad,  as  De  Aquila  said, 
at  twice  missing  of  this  kingdom,  had  sent  an 
army  against  England,  which  army  had  been 
well  beaten  back  to  their  ships  at  Portsmouth. 
A  little  earlier,  and  Witta's  ship  would  have 
rowed  through  them. 

'"And  now,"  said  De  Aquila,  "half  the 
great  Barons  of  the  north  and  west  are  out 
against  the  King  between  Salisbury  and 
Shrewsbury;  and  half  the  other  half  wait  to 
see  which  way  the  game  shall  go.  They  say 
Henry  is  overly  English  for  their  stomachs, 
because  he  hath  married  an  English  wife  and 
she  hath  coaxed  him  to  give  back  their  old 
laws  to  our  Saxons.  (Better  ride  a  horse  on 
the  bit  he  knows,  /  say.)  But  that  is  only 
a  cloak  to  their  falsehood.  "  He  cracked  his 
finger  on  the  table  where  the  wine  was  spilt, 
and  thus  he  spoke : — 

* "  William  crammed  us  Norman  barons 
full  of  good  English  acres  after  Santlache.  / 
had  my  share  too, "  he  said,  and  clapped 
Hugh  on  the  shoulder;  "but  I  warned  him — 
I  warned  him  before  Odo  rebelled — that  he 
should  have  bidden  the  Barons  give  up  their 
lands  and  lordships  in  Normandy  if  they  would 
be  English  lords.  Now  they  are  all  but  prin- 
ces both  in  England  and  Normandy — trencher- 
fed  hounds,  with  a  foot  in  one  trough  and 
both  eyes  on  the  other!  Robert  of  Nor- 
mandy has  sent  them  word  that  if  they  do  not 


OLD  MEN  AT  PEVENSEY  93 

fight  for  him  in  England  he  will  sack  and  harry- 
out  their  lands  in  Normandy.  Therefore 
Clare  has  risen,  Fitz  Osbom  has  risen,  Mont- 
gomery has  risen — whom  our  First  William 
made  an  English  earl.  Even  D'Arcy  is  out 
with  his  men,  whose  father  I  remember  a 
little  hedge-sparrow  knight  nearby  Caen. 
If  Henry  wins,  the  Barons  can  still  flee  to 
Normandy,  where  Robert  will  welcome  them. 
If  Henry  loses,  Robert,  he  says,  will  give 
them  more  lands  in  England.  Oh,  a  pest — 
a  pest  on  Normandy,  for  she  will  be  our  En- 
gland's curse  this  many  a  long  year! " 

'  "  Amen,  "  said  Hugh.  "  But  will  the  war 
come  our  ways,  think  you? " 

' "  Not  from  the  North, "  said  De  Aquila. 
"But  the  sea  is  always  open.  If  the  Barons 
gain  the  upper  hand  Robert  will  send  another 
army  into  England  for  sure;  and  this  time  I 
think  he  will  land  here — where  his  father,  the 
Conqueror,  landed.  Ye  have  brought  your 
pigs  to  a  pretty  market !  Half  England  alight, 
and  gold  enough  on  the  ground  " — he  stamped 
on  the  bars  beneath  the  table — "to  set  every 
sword  in  Christendom  fighting.  " 

'  "  What  is  to  do? "  said  Hugh.  "  I  have  no 
keep  at  Dallington;  and  if  we  buried  it,  whom 
could  we  trust?" 

'  "  Me,  "  said  De  Aquila.  "  Pevensey  walls 
are  strong.  No  man  but  Jehan,  who  is  my 
dog,  knows  what  is  between  them.  "  He  drew 
a  curtain  by  the  shot-window  and  showed 
us  the  shaft  of  a  well  in  the  thickness  of  the 
wall. 

*  "  I  made  it  for  a  drinking- well,  "  he  said, 


94  PUCK  OF  POOR'S  HILL 

"but  we  found  salt  water,  and  it  rises  and 
falls  with  the  tide.  Hark!"  We  heard  the 
water  whistle  and  blow  at  the  bottom.  "  Will 
it  serve?"  said  he. 

'"Needs  must,"  said  Hugh.  "Our  lives 
are  in  thy  hands."  So  we  lowered  all  the 
gold  down  except  one  small  chest  of  it  by  De 
Aquila's  bed,  which  we  kept  as  much  for  his 
delight  in  its  weight  and  colour  as  for  any  our 
needs. 

'In  the  morning,  ere  we  rode  to  our  Manors, 
he  said:  "  I  do  not  say  farewell;  because  ye 
will  return  and  bide  here.  Not  for  love  nor 
for  sorrow,  but  to  be  with  the  gold.  Have 
a  care,"  he  said,  laughing,  "lest  I  use  it  to 
make  myself  Pope.  Trust  me  not, but  return !" ' 

Sir  Richard  paused  and  smiled  sadly. 

*  In  seven  days,  then,  we  returned  from  our 
Manors — from  the  Manors  which  had  been 
ours. ' 

'And  were  the  children  quite  well?'  said 
Una. 

'  My  sons  were  young.  Land  and  gover- 
nance belong  by  right  to  young  men. '  Sir 
Richard  was  talking  to  himself.  '  It  would 
have  broken  their  hearts  if  we  had  taken  back 
our  Manors.  They  made  us  great  welcome, 
but  we  could  see — Hugh  and  I  could  see — 
that  our  day  was  done.  I  was  a  cripple  and 
he  a  one-amied  man.  No ! '  He  shook  his 
head.  '  And  therefore ' — he  raised  his  voice — 
'  we  rode  back  to  Pevensey. ' 

'  I'm  sorry, '  said  Una,  for  the  knight 
seemed  very  sorrowful. 

'  Little  maid,  it  all  passed  long  ago.     They 


OLD  MEN  AT  PEVENSEY  95 

were  "young;  we  were  old.  We  let  them 
rule  the  Manors.  "Aha!"  cried  De  Aquila 
from  his  shot-window,  when  we  dismounted. 
"Back  again  to  earth,  old  foxes?"  but  when 
we  were  in  his  chamber  above  the  hall  he  puts 
his  arms  about  us  and  says,  "Welcome, 
ghosts!  Welcome,  poor  ghosts!".  .  .  Thus 
it  fell  out  that  we  were  rich  beyond  belief, 
and  lonely.     And  lonely ! ' 

'  Wha.t  did  you  do  ? '   said  Dan. 

'  We  watched  for  Robert  of  Normandy, ' 
said  the  knight.  '  De  Aquila  was  like  Witta. 
He  suffered  no  idleness.  In  fair  weather  we 
would  ride  along  between  Bexlei  on  the  one 
side,  to  Cuckmere  on  the  other — sometimes 
with  hawk,  sometimes  with  hound  (there  are 
stout  hares  both  on  the  Marsh  and  the  Down- 
land),  but  always  with  an  eye  to  the  sea,  for 
fear  of  fleets  from  Normandy.  In  foul  weather 
he  would  walk  on  the  top  of  his  tower,  frown- 
ing against  the  rain — peering  here  and  pointing 
there.  It  always  vexed  him  to  think  how 
Witta' s  ship  had  come  and  gone  without  his 
knowledge.  When  the  wind  ceased  and  ships 
anchored,  to  the  wharf's  edge  he  would  go 
and,  leaning  on  his  sword  among  the  stinking 
fish,  would  call  to  the  mariners  for  their  news 
from  France.  His  other  eye  he  kept  land- 
ward for  word  of  Henry's  war  against  the 
Barons. 

'  Many  brought  him  news — jongleurs,  har- 
pers, pedlars,  sutlers,  priests,  and  the  like; 
and,  though  he  was  secret  enough  in  small 
things,  yet,  if  their  news  misliked  him,  then, 
regarding  neither  time  nor  place  nor  people, 


96  PUCK  OF  POOR'S  HILL 

would  he  curse  our  King  Henry  for  a  fool  or 
a  babe.  I  have  heard  him  cry  aloud  by  the 
fishing-boats:  "If  I  were  King  of  England 
I  would  do  thus  and  thus  " ;  and  when  I  rode 
out  to  see  that  the  warning-beacons  were 
laid  and  dry,  he  hath  often  called  to  me  from 
the  shot-window :  "Look  to  it,  Richard!  Do 
not  copy  our  blind  King,  but  see  with  thine 
own  eyes  and  feel  with  thine  own  hands. " 
I  do  not  think  he  knew  any  sort  of  fear.  And 
so  we  lived  at  Pevensey,  in  the  little  chamber 
above  the  Hall. 

*  One  foul  night  came  word  that  a  messenger 
of  the  King  waited  below.  We  were  chilled 
after  a  long  riding  in  the  fog  towards  Bexlei, 
which  is  an  easy  place  for  ships  to  land.  De 
Aquila  sent  word  the  man  might  either  eat 
with  us  or  wait  till  we  had  fed.  Anon  Jehan, 
at  the  stair-head,  cried  that  he  had  called  for 
horse,  and  was  gone.  "Pest  on  him!"  said 
De  Aquila.  "  I  have  more  to  do  than  to 
shiver  in  the  Great  Hall  for  every  gadling 
the  King  sends.     Left  he  no  word?" 

'  "  None,  "  said  Jehan,  "  except " — he  had 
been  with  De  Aquila  at  Santlache — "  except 
he  said  that  if  an  old  dog  could  not  learn 
new  tricks  it  was  time  to  sweep  out  the  ken- 
nel." 

'  "  Oho! "  said  De  Aquila,  rubbing  his  nose, 
"to  whom  did  he  say  that?" 

'"To  his  beard,  chiefly,  but  some  to  his 
horse's  flank  as  he  was  girthing  up.  I  fol- 
lowed him  out,"  said  Jehan  the  Crab. 

'  "  What  was  his  shield-mark?  " 

'  "  Gold  horseshoes  on  black,"  said  the  Crab. 


OLD  MEN  AT  PEVENSEY  97 

'"That  is  one  of  Fulke's  men,"  said  De 
Aquila.' 

Puck  broke  in  very  gently,  '  Gold  horse- 
shoes on  black  is  not  the  Fulkes'  shield.  The 
Fulkes'  arms  are ' 

The  knight  waved  one  hand  statelily. 

*  Thou  knowest  that  evil  man's  true  name, ' 
he  replied,  'but  I  have  chosen  to  call  him 
Fulke  because  I  promised  him  I  would  not 
tell  the  story  of  his  wickedness  so  that  any 
man  might  guess  it.  I  have  changed  all  the 
names  in  my  tale.  His  children's  children 
may  be  still  alive.' 

'True — true,'  said  Puck,  smiling  softly. 
'  It  is  knightly  to  keep  faith — even  after  a 
thousand  years.' 

Sir  Richard  bowed  a  little  and  went  on: — 

'"Gold  horseshoes  on  black?"  said  De 
Aquila."  "  I  had  heard  Fulke  had  joined  the 
Barons,  but  if  this  is  true  our  King  must  be 
of  the  upper  hand.  No  matter,  all  Fulkes 
are  faithful.  Still,  I  would  not  have  sent  the 
man  away  empty." 

'  "  He  fed,"  said  Jehan.  "  Gilbert  the  Clerk 
fetched  him  meat  and  wine  from  the  kitchens. 
He  ate  at  Gilbert's  table." 

'  This  Gilbert  was  a  clerk  from  Battle  Abbey, 
who  kept  the  accounts  of  the  Manor  of  Peven- 
sey.  He  was  tall  and  pale-coloured,  and 
carried  those  new-fashioned  beads  for  count- 
ing of  prayers.  They  were  large  brown  nuts 
or  seeds,  and  hanging  from  his  girdle  with  his 
penner  and  inkhorn  they  clashed  when  he 
walked.  His  place  was  in  the  great  fireplace. 
There  was  his  table  of  accounts,  and  there  he 


98  PUCK  OF  POOR'S  HILL 

lay  o'  nights.  He  feared  the  hounds  in  the 
Hall  that  came  nosing  after  bones  or  to  sleep 
on  the  warm  ashes,  and  would  slash  at  them 
with  his  beads— like  a  woman.  When  De 
Aquila  sat  in  Hall  to  do  justice,  take  fines,  or 
grant  lands,  Gilbert  would  so  write  it  in  the 
Manor-roll.  But  it  was  none  of  his  work  to 
feed  our  guests,  or  to  let  them  depart  with- 
out his  lord's  knowledge. 

*  Said  De  Aquila,  after  Jehan  was  gone  down 
the  stair:  "Hugh,  hast  thou  ever  told  my 
Gilbert  thou  canst  read  Latin  hand-of-write?" 

'  "  No,"  said  Hugh.  "  He  is  no  friend  to  me, 
or  to  Odo  my  hound  either."  "No  matter," 
said  De  Aquila.  "  Let  him  never  know  thou 
canst  tell  one  letter  from  its  fellow,  and  " — 
here  he  jerked  us  in  the  ribs  with  his  scabbard 
— "watch  him  both  of  ye.  There  be  devils 
in  Africa,  as  I  have  heard,  but  by  the  Saints 
there  be  greater  devils  in  Pevensey!"  And 
that  was  all  he  would  say. 

'  It  chanced,  some  small  while  afterwards,  a 
Norman  man-at-arms  would  wed  a  Saxon 
wench  of  the  Manor,  and  Gilbert  (we  had 
watched  him  well  since  De  Aquila  spoke) 
doubted  whether  her  folk  were  free  or  slave. 
Since  De  Aquila  would  give  them  a  field  of 
good  land,  if  she  were  free,  the  matter  came 
up  at  the  justice  in  Great  Hall  before  De 
Aquila.  First  the  wench's  father  spoke;  then 
her  mother;  then  all  together,  till  the  hall 
rang  and  the  hounds  bayed.  De  Aquila  held 
up  his  hands.  "  Write  her  free,"  he  called  to 
Gilbert  by  the  fireplace.  "A'  God's  Name 
write  her  free,  before  she  deafens  me!     Yes, 


OLD  MEN  AT  PEVENSEY  99 

yes,"  he  said  to  the  wench  that  was  on  her 
knees  at  him;  "thou  art  Cerdic's  sister,  and 
own  cousin  to  the  Lady  of  Mercia,  if  thou  wilt 
be  silent.  In  fifty  years  there  will  be  neither 
Norman  nor  Saxon,  but  all  English,"  said  he, 
"and  these  are  the  men  that  do  our  work!" 
He  clapped  the  man-at-arms,  that  was  Jehan's 
nephew,  on  the  shouder,  and  kissed  the 
wench,  and  fretted  with  his  feet  among  the 
rushes  to  show  it  was  finished.  (The  Great 
Hall  is  always  bitter  cold.)  I  stood  at  his 
side ;  Hugh  was  behind  Gilbert  in  the  fireplace 
making  to  play  with  wise  rough  Odo.  He 
signed  to  De  Aqulla,  who  bade  Gilbert  mea- 
sure the  new  field  for  the  new  couple.  Out 
then  runs  our  Gilbert  between  man  and  maid, 
his  beads  clashing  at  his  waist,  and  the  Hall 
being  empty,  we  three  sit  by  the  fire. 

'Said  Hugh,  leaning  down  to  the  hearth- 
stones, "  I  saw  this  stone  move  under  Gilbert's 
foot  when  Odo  snuffed  at  it.  Look ! '  De 
Aquila  digged  in  the  ashes  with  his  sword; 
the  stone  tilted ;  beneath  it  lay  a  parchment 
f olden,  and  the  writing  atop  was:  "Words 
spoken  against  the  King  by  our  Lord  of 
Pevensey — the  second  part." 

'  Here  was  set  out  (Hugh  read  it  us  whisper- 
ing) every  jest  De  Aquila  had  made  to  us 
touching  the  King;  every  time  he  had  called 
out  to  me  from  the  shot-window,  and  every 
time  he  had  said  what  he  would  do  if  he  were 
King  of  England.  Yes,  day  by  day  had  his 
daily  speech,  which  he  never  stinted,  been  set 
down  by  Gilbert,  tricked  out  and  twisted 
from  its  true  meaning,  yet  withal  so  cunningly 


100  PUCK  OF  POOR'S  HILL 

that  none  could  deny  who  knew  him  that  De 
Aquila  had  in  some  sort  spoken  those  words. 
Ye  see  ? ' 

Dan  and  Una  nodded. 

*  Yes, '  said  Una,  gravely.  '  It  isn't  what 
you  say  so  much.  It's  what  you  mean  when 
you  say  lit.  Like  calling  Dan  a  beast  in 
fun.  Only  grown-ups  don't  always  under- 
stand. ' 

*  "  He  hath  done  this  day  by  day  before  our 
very  face?"  said  De  Aquila. 

*  "  Nay,  hour  by  hour, ' '  said  Hugh.  "  When 
De  Aquila  spoke  even  now,  in  the  hall,  of 
Saxons  and  Normans,  I  saw  Gilbert  write  on 
a  parchment,  which  he  kept  beside  the  Manor- 
roll,  that  De  Aquila  said  soon  there  would  be 
no  Normans  left  in  England  if  his  men-at- 
arms  did  their  work  aright." 

'"Bones  of  the  Saints!"  said  De  Aquila. 
"What  avail  is  honour  or  a  sword  against  a 
pen?  Where  did  Gilbert  hide  that  writing? 
He  shall  eat  it." 

'  "  In  his  breast  when  he  ran  out,  "  said  Hugh. 
"Which  made  me  look  to  see  where  he  kept 
his  finished  stuff.  When  Odo  scratched  at 
this  stone  here,  I  saw  his  face  change.  So  I 
was  sure." 

'  "  He  is  bold,  "  said  De  Aquila.  "  Do  him 
justice.  In  his  own  fashion,  my  Gilbert  is 
bold." 

'  "  Overbold,"  said  Hugh.  "  Hearken  here," 
and  he  read:  "Upon  the  feast  of  St.  Agatha, 
our  Lord  of  Pevensey,  lying  in  his  upper 
chamber,  being  clothed  in  his  second  fur  gown 
reversed  with  rabbit " 


OLD  MEN  AT  PEVENSEY         loi 

'  "  Pest  on  him !  He  is  not  my  tire- woman ! " 
said  De  Aquila,  and  Hugh  and  I  laughed. 

' "  Reversed  with  rabbit,  seeing  a  fog  over 
the  marshes,  did  wake  Sir  Richard  Dalyn- 
gridge,  his  drunken  cup-mate"  (here  they 
laughed  at  me)  "and  said,  'Peer  out,  old  fox, 
for  God  is  on  the  Duke  of  Normandy's  side. ' " 

' "  So  did  I.  It  was  a  black  fog.  Robert 
could  have  landed  ten  thousand  men,  and 
we  none  the  wiser.  Does  he  tell  how  we  were 
out  all  day  riding  the  marsh,  and  how  I  near 
perished  in  a  quicksand,  and  coughed  like  a 
sick  ewe  for  ten  days  after? "  cried  De  Aquila. 

'"No,"  said  Hugh.  "But  here  is  the 
prayer  of  Gilbert  himself  to  his  master  Fulke.  " 

'"Ah,"  said  De  Aquila.  "Well  I  knew  it 
was  Fulke.     What  is  the  price  of  my  blood? " 

' "  Gilbert  prayeth  that  when  our  Lord  of 
Pevensey  is  stripped  of  his  lands  on  this  evi- 
dence which  Gilbert  hath,  with  fear  and  pains, 
collected " 

* "  Fear  and  pains  is  a  true  word, "  said  De 
Aquila,  and  sucked  in  his  cheeks.  "But  how 
excellent  a  weapon  is  a  pen!  I  must  learn 
it." 

' "  He  prays  that  Fulke  will  advance  him 
from  his  present  service  to  that  honour  in  the 
Church  which  Fulke  promised  him.  And 
lest  Fulke  should  forget,  he  has  written  below, 
'To  be  Sacristan  of  Battle.'" 

'At  this  De  Aquila  whistled.  "  A  man  who 
can  plot  against  one  lord  can  plot  against 
another.  When  I  am  stripped  of  my  lands 
Fulke  will  whip  off  my  Gilbert's  foolish  head. 
None  the  less  Battle  needs  a  new  Sacristan. 


I02  PUCK  OF  POOK'S  HILL 

They  tell  me  the  Abbot  Henry  keeps  no  sort 
of  rule  there.  " 

"'Let  the  Abbot  wait,"  said  Hugh.  "It 
is  our  heads  and  our  lands  that  are  in  danger. 
This  parchment  is  the  second  part  of  the  tale. 
The  first  has  gone  to  Fulke,  and  so  to  the  King, 
who  will  hold  us  traitors.  " 

'"Assuredly,"  said  De  Aquila.  "Fulke's 
man  took  the  first  part  that  evening  when 
Gilbert  fed  him,  and  our  King  is  so  beset  by 
his  brother  and  his  Barons  (small  blame,  too!) 
that  he  is  mad  with  mistrust.  Fulke  has  his 
ear,  and  pours  poison  into  it.  Presently  the 
King  gives  him  my  land  and  yours.  This  is 
old, "  and  he  learned  back  and  yawned. 

'  "  And  thou  wilt  surrender  Pevensey  without 
word  or  blow?"  said  Hugh.  "We  Saxons 
will  fight  your  King  then.  I  will  go  warn  my 
nephew  at  Dallington.     Give  me  a  horse!" 

'  "  Give  thee  a  toy  and  a  rattle.  "  said  De 
Aquila.  "  Put  back  the  parchment,  and  rake 
over  the  ashes.  If  Fulke  is  given  my  Pevensey 
which  is  England's  gate,  what  will  he  do  with 
it?  He  is  Norman  at  heart,  and  his  heart  is 
in  Normandy,  where  he  can  kill  peasants  at 
his  pleasure.  He  will  open  England's  gate 
to  our  sleepy  Robert,  as  Odo  and  Mortain 
tried  to  do,  and  then  there  will  be  another 
landing  and  another  Santlache.  Therefore 
I  cannot  give  up  Pevensey. " 

'  "  Good,  "  said  we  two. 

*"Ah,  but  wait!  If  my  King  be  made, 
on  Gilbert's  evidence,  to  mistrust  me,  he  will 
send  his  men  against  me  here,  and,  while 
we  fight,  England's  gate  is  left  unguarded. 


OLD  MEN  AT  PEVENSEY  103 

Who  will  be  the  first  to  come  through  thereby? 
Even  Robert  of  Normandy.  Therefore  I 
cannot  fight  my  King.  "  He  nursed  his  sword 
— thus. 

* "  This  is  saying  and  unsaying  like  a  Nor- 
man,"  said  Hugh.     "What  of  our  Manors?" 

* "  I  do  not  think  for  myself, "  said  De 
Aquila,  "  nor  for  our  King,  nor  for  your  lands. 
I  think  for  England,  for  whom  neither  King 
nor  Baron  thinks.  I  am  not  Norman,  Sir 
Richard,  nor  Saxon,  Sir  Hugh.   English  am  I." 

'  "  Saxon,  Norman,  or  English,  "  said  Hugh, 
"  our  lives  are  thine,  however  the  game  goes. 
When  do  we  hang  Gilbert? " 

'"Never,"  said  De  Aquila.  "Who  knows 
he  may  yet  be  Sacristan  of  Battle,  for,  to  do 
him  justice,  he  is  good  writer.  Dead  men 
make  dumb  witnesses.     Wait.  " 

' "  But  the  King  may  give  Pevensey  to 
Fulke.  And  our  Manors  go  with  it, "  said  I. 
"  Shall  we  tell  our  sons? " 

*  "  No.  The  King  will  not  wake  up  a  hor- 
net's nest  in  the  South  till  he  has  smoked  out 
the  bees  in  the  North.  He  may  hold  me  a 
traitor;  but  at  least  he  sees  I  am  not  fighting 
against  him,  and  every  day  that  I  lie  still  is 
so  much  gain  to  him  while  he  fights  the  barons. 
If  he  were  wise  he  would  wait  till  that  war 
were  over  before  he  made  new  enemies.  But 
I  think  Fulke  will  play  upon  him  to  send  for 
me,  and  if  I  do  not  obey  the  summons  that 
will,  to  Henry's  mind,  be  proof  of  my  treason. 
But  mere  talk,  such  as  Gilbert  sends,  is  no 
proof  nowadays.  We  Barons  follow  the 
Church,  and,  like  Ansekn,  we  speak  what  we 


I04  PUCK  OF  POOR'S  HILL 

please.  Let  us  go  about  our  day's  dealings, 
and  say  naught  to  Gilbert." 

'  "  Then  we  do  nothing?"  said  Hugh. 

"'We  wait,"  said  De  Aquila.  "I  am  old, 
but  still  I  find  that  the  most  grievovis  work  I 
know. ' ' 

'And  so  we  found  it,  but  in  the  end  De 
Aquila  was  right. 

'A  little  later  in  the  year,  armed  men  rode 
over  the  hill,  the  Golden  Horseshoes  flying 
behind  the  King's  banner.  Said  De  Aquila, 
at  the  window  of  our  chamber:  "How  did  I 
tell  you?  Here  comes  Fulke  himself  to  spy 
out  his  new  lands  which  our  King  hath 
promised  him  if  he  can  bring  proof  of  my 
treason. ' ' 

'  "  How  dost  thou  know? "  said  Hugh. 

'  "  Because  that  is  what  I  would  do  if  I  were 
Fulke,  but  /  should  have  brought  more  men. 
My  roan  horse  to  your  old  shoes,"  said  he, 
"  Fulke  brings  me  the  King's  Summons  to 
leave  Pevensey  and  join  the  war. ' '  He  sucked 
in  his  cheeks  and  drummed  on  the  edge  of  the 
shaft,  where  the  water  sounded  all  hollow. 

'"  Shall  we  go?"  said  L 

'"Go!  At  this  time  of  year?  Stark  mad- 
ness," said  he.  "Take  me  from  Pevensey  to 
fisk  and  flyte  through  fern  and  forest,  and  in 
three  days  Robert's  keels  would  be  lying  on 
Pevensey  mud  with  ten  thousand  men!  Who 
would  stop  them — Fulke  ? ' ' 

'The  horns  blew  without,  and  anon  Fulke 
cried  the  King's  Summons  at  the  great  door 
that  De  Aquila  with  all  men  and  horse  should 
join  the  King's  camp  at  Salisbury. 


OLD  MEN  AT  PEVENSEY        105 

"'How  did  I  tell  you?"  said  De  Aquila. 
"There  are  twenty  Barons  'twixt  here  and 
Salisbury  could  give  King  Henry  good  land- 
service,  but  he  has  been  worked  upon  by 
Fulke  to  send  south  and  call  me — me! — off 
the  Gate  of  England,  when  his  enemies  stand 
about  to  batter  it  in.  See  that  Fulke 's  men 
lie  in  the  big  south  bam,"  said  he.  "Give 
them  drink,  and  when  Fulke  has  eaten  we 
will  drink  in  my  chamber.  The  Great  Hall 
is  too  cold  for  old  bones." 

'  As  soon  as  he  was  off-horse  Fulke  went  to 
the  chapel  with  Gilbert  to  give  thanks  for  his 
safe  coming,  and  when  he  had  eaten — he  was 
a  fat  man,  and  rolled  his  eyes  greedily  at  our 
good  roast  Sussex  wheatears — we  led  him  to 
the  little  upper  chamber,  whither  Gilbert  had 
already  gone  with  the  Manor-roll.  I  remem- 
ber when  Fulke  heard  the  tide  blow  and 
whistle  in  the  shaft  he  leaped  back,  and  his 
long  down-turned  stirrup-shoes  caught  in  the 
rushes  and  he  stumbled,  so  that  Jehan  behind 
him  found  it  easy  to  knock  his  head  against 
the  wall.' 

'Did  you  know  it  was  going  to  happen?' 
said  Dan. 

'Assuredly,'  said  Sir  Richard,  with  a  sweet 
smile.  '  I  put  my  foot  on  his  sword  and 
plucked  away  his  dagger,  but  he  knew  not 
whether  it  was  day  or  night  for  a  while.  He 
lay  rolling  his  eyes  and  bubbling  with  his 
mouth,  and  Jehan  roped  him  like  a  calf.  He 
was  cased  all  in  that  new-fangled  armour 
which  we  call  lizard-mail.  Not  rings  like 
my  hauberk  here' — Sir  Richard  tapped  his 


io6  PUCK  OF  POOK'S  HILL 

chest — 'but  little  pieces  of  dagger-proof  steel 
overlapping  on  stout  leather.  We  stripped 
it  off  (no  need  to  spoil  good  harness  by  wetting 
it),  and  in  the  neck-piece  De  Aquila  found  the 
same  folden  piece  of  parchment  which  we 
had  put  back  under  the  hearthstone. 

'At  this  Gilbert  would  have  run  out.  I 
laid  my  hand  on  his  shoulder.  It  sufficed. 
He  fell  to  trembling  and  praying  on  his 
beads. 

'"Gilbert,"  said  De  Aquila,  "here  be  more 
notable  sayings  and  doings  of  our  Lord  of 
Pevensey  for  thee  to  write  down.  Take 
penner  and  inkhom,  Gilbert.  We  cannot 
all  be  Sacristans  of  Battle," 

'  Said  Fulke  from  the  floor,  "  Ye  have  bound 
a  King's  messenger.  Pevensey  shall  bum  for 
this!" 

'"Maybe.  I  have  seen  it  besieged  once," 
said  De  Aquila,  "but  heart  up,  Fulke.  I 
promise  thee  that  thou  shalt  be  hanged  in  the 
middle  of  the  flames  at  the  end  of  that  siege, 
if  I  have  to  share  my  last  loaf  with  thee ;  and 
that  is  more  than  Odo  v^  >uld  have  done  when 
we  starved  out  him  and  i.iortain." 

*  Then  Fulke  sat  up  and  looked  long  and 
cunningly  at  De  Aquila. 

'  "  By  the  Saints,"  said  he,  "  why  didst  thou 
not  say  thou  wast  on  the  Duke's  side  at  the 
first?" 

'"Ami?"  said  De  Aquila. 

'  Fulke  laughed  and  said,  "  No  man  who 
serves  King  Henry  dare  do  this  much  to  his 
messenger.  When  didst  thou  come  over  to 
the  Duke?     Let  me  up  and  we  can  smooth 


OLD  MEN  AT  PEVENSEY        107 

it  out  together."  And  he  smiled  and  becked 
and  winked. 

'"Yes,  we  will  smooth  it  out,"  said  De 
Aquila.  He  nodded  to  me,  and  Jehan  and 
I  heaved  up  Fulke — he  was  a  heavy  man — 
and  lowered  him  into  the  shaft  by  a  rope,  not 
so  as  to  stand  on  our  gold,  but  dangling  by 
his  shoulders  a  little  above.  It  was  turn  of 
ebb,  and  the  water  came  to  his  knees.  He 
said  nothing,  but  shivered  somewhat. 

'Then  Jehan  of  a  sudden  beat  down  Gil- 
bert's wrist  with  his  sheathed  dagger,  "  Stop! " 
he  said.     "  He  swallows  his  beads." 

"'Poison,  belike,"  said  De  Aquila.  "It  is 
good  for  men  who  know  too  much.  I  have 
carried  it  these  thirty  years.     Give  me!" 

'Then  Gilbert  wept  and  howled.  De 
Aquila  ran  the  beads  through  his  fingers. 
The  last  one — I  have  said  they  were  large 
nuts — opened  in  two  halves  on  a  pin,  and 
there  was  a  small  folded  parchment  within. 
On  it  was  written:  ''The  Old  Dog  goes  to 
Salisbury  to  he  beaten.  I  have  his  Kennel. 
Come  quickly.'' 

'"This  is  worse  than  poison,"  said  De 
Aquila,  very  softly,  and  sucked  in  his  cheeks. 
Then  Gilbert  grovelled  in  the  rushes,  and  told 
us  all  he  knew.  The  letter,  as  we  guessed, 
was  from  Fulke  to  the  Duke  (and  not  the  first 
that  had  passed  between  them);  Fulke  had 
given  it  to  Gilbert  in  the  chapel,  and  Gilbert 
thought  to  have  taken  it  by  morning  to  a 
certain  fishing-boat  at  the  wharf,  which 
trafficked  between  Pevensey  and  the  French 
shore.     Gilbert   was    a   false   fellow,    but  he 


io8  PUCK  OF  POOR'S  HILL 

found  time  between  his  quakings  and  shak- 
ings to  swear  that  the  master  of  the  boat 
knew  nothing  of  the  matter. 

'"He  hath  called  me  shaved  head,"  said 
Gilbert,  "  and  he  hath  thrown  haddock-guts 
at  me;  but  for  all  that,  he  is  no  traitor." 

* "  I  will  have  no  clerk  of  mine  mishandled 
or  miscalled,"  said  De  Aquila.  ''That  sea- 
man shall  be  whipped  at  his  own  mast. 
Write  me  first  a  letter,  and  thou  shalt  bear  it, 
with  the  order  for  the  whipping,  to-morrow 
to  the  boat." 

"'At  this  Gilbert  would  have  kissed  De 
Aquila' s  hand — he  had  not  hoped  to  live  until 
the  morning — and  when  he  trembled  less  he 
wrote  a  letter  as  from  Fulke  to  the  Duke 
saying  that  the  Kennel,  which  signified  Peven- 
sey,  was  shut,  and  that  the  old  Dog  (which 
was  De  Aquila)  sat  outside  it,  and,  moreover, 
that  all  had  been  betrayed. 

'"Write  to  any  man  that  all  is  betrayed," 
said  De  Aquila,  "  and  even  the  Pope  himself 
would  sleep  uneasily.  Eh,  Jehan?  If  one 
told  thee  all  was  betrayed,  what  wouldst  thou 
do?" 

'"I  would  run  away,"  said  Jehan.  "It 
might  be  true." 

'"Well  said,"  quoth  De  Aquila.  "Write, 
Gilbert,  that  Montgomery,  the  great  Earl, 
hath  made  his  peace  with  the  King,  and  that 
little  D'Arcy,  whom  I  hate,  hath  been  hanged 
by  the  heels.  We  will  give  Robert  full  mea- 
sure to  chew  upon.  Write  also  that  Fulke 
himself  is  sick  to  death  of  a  dropsy." 

'"Nay?"    cried  Fulke,  hanging  in  the  well- 


OLD  MEN  AT  PEVENSEY         109 

shaft.  "  Drown  me  out  of  hand,  but  do  not 
make  a  jest  of  me." 

'"Jest?  I?"  said  De  Aquila.  "I  am  but 
fighting  for  life  and  lands  with  a  pen,  as  thou 
hast  shown  me,  Fulke." 

'  Then  Fulke  groaned,  for  he  was  cold,  and, 
"Let  ine  confess,"  said  he. 

'"Now,  this  is  right  neighbourly,"  said  De 
Aquila,  leaning  over  the  shaft.  "  Thou  hast 
read  my  sayings  and  doings — or  at  least  the 
first  part  of  them — and  thou  art  minded  to 
repay  me  with  thy  own  doings  and  sayings. 
Take  penner  and  inkhorn,  Gilbert.  Here 
is  work  that  will  not  irk  thee." 

'  "Let  my  men  go  without  hurt,  and  I  will 
confess  my  treason  against  the  King,"  said 
Fulke. 

'  '  "  Now,  why  has  he  grown  so  tender  of  his 
men  of  a  sudden?"  said  Hugh  to  me;  for 
Fulke  had  no  name  for  mercy  to  his  men. 
Plunder  he  gave  them,  but  pity,  none. 

'"Te!  Te!"  said  De  Aquila.  "Thy  trea- 
son was  all  confessed  long  ago  by  Gilbert.  It 
would  be  enough  to  hang  Montgomery  him- 
self." 

'"Nay;  but  spare  my  men,"  said  Fulke; 
and  we  heard  him  splash  like  a  fish  in  a  pond , 
for  the  tide  was  rising. 

'"All  in  good  time, ' '  said  De  Aquila.  "  The 
night  is  young;  the  wine  is  old;  and  we  need 
only  the  merry  tale.  Begin  the  story  of  thy 
life  since  when  thou  wast  a  lad  at  Tours. 
Tell  it  nimbly!" 

'"Ye  shame  me  to  my  soul,"  said   Fulke. 

'"Then  I   have  done  what   neither    King 


(  (( 


no  PUCK  OF  POOK'S  HILL 

nor  Duke  could  do,"  said  De  Aquila.     "But 
begin,  and  forget  nothing." 

Send  thy  man  away,"  said  Fulke. 
That    much    I    can,"     said    De  Aquila. 
'But,  remember,  I  am  like  the  Danes'  King; 
I  cannot  turn  the  tide." 

'  "How  long  will  it  rise?"  said  Fulke,  and 
splashed  anew. 

'  "  For  three  hours, ' '  said  De  Aquila.  "  Time 
to  tell  all  thy  good  deeds.  Begin,  and  Gil- 
bert— I  have  heard  thou  art  somewhat  care- 
less— do  not  twist  his  words  from  their  true 
meaning." 

'So — fear  of  death  in  the  dark  being  upon 
him — Fulke  began;  and  Gilbert,  not  knowing 
what  his  fate  might  be,  wrote  it  word  by  word. 
I  have  heard  many  tales,  but  never  heard  I 
aught  to  match  the  tale  of  Fulke,  his  black 
life,  as  Fulke  told  it  hollowly,  hanging  in  the 
shaft.' 

'Was  it  bad?'   said  Dan,  awestruck. 

'Beyond  belief,'  Sir  Richard  answered. 
'None  the  less,  there  was  that  in  it  w^hich 
forced  even  Gilbert  to  laugh.  We  three 
laughed  till  we  ached.  At  one  place  his  teeth 
so  chattered  that  we  could  not  well  hear,  and 
we  reached  him  down  a  cup  of  wine.  Then 
he  warmed  to  it,  and  smoothly  set  out  all  his 
shifts,  malices,  and  treacheries,  his  extreme 
boldnesses  (he  was  desperate  bold) ;  his  retreats, 
shufflings,  and  counterfeitings  (he  was  also 
inconceivably  a  coward) ;  his  lack  of  gear  and 
honour;  his  despair  at  their  loss;  his  remedies, 
and  well-coloured  contrivances.  Yes,  he 
waved  the  filthy  rags  of  his  life  before  us,  as 


OLD  MEN  AT  PEVENSEY         m 

though  they  had  been  some  proud  banner. 
When  he  ceased,  we  saw  by  torches  that  the 
tide  stood  at  the  comers  of  his  mouth,  and  he 
breathed  strongly  through  his  nose. 

'We  had  him  out,  and  rubbed  him;  we 
wrapped  him  in  a  cloak,  and  gave  him  wine, 
and  we  leaned  and  looked  upon  him  the  while 
he  drank.     He  was  shivering,  but  shameless. 

'Of  a  sudden  we  heard  Jehan  at  the  stair- 
way wake,  but  a  boy  pushed  past  him,  and 
stood  before  us,  the  hall  rushes  in  his  hair,  all 
slubbered  with  sleep.  "My  father!  My 
father!  I  dreamed  of  treachery,"  he  cried, 
and  babbled  thickly. 

'"There  is  no  treachery  here,"  said  Fulke. 
"Go,"  and  the  boy  turned,  even  then  not 
fully  awake,  and  Jehan  led  him  by  the  hand 
to  the  Great  Hall. 

'"Thy  only  son!"  said  De  Aquila,  "Why 
didst  thou  bring  the  child  here?" 

'  "  He  is  my  heir.  I  dared  not  trust  him  to 
my  brother,"  said  Fulke,  and  now  he  was 
ashamed.  De  Aquila  said  nothing,  but  sat 
weighing  a  wine  cup  in  his  two  hands — thus. 
Anon,  Fulke  touched  him  on  the  knee. 

'"Let  the  boy  escape  to  Normandy,"  said 
he,  "and  do  with  me  at  thy  pleasure.  Yea, 
hang  me  to-morrow,  with  my  letter  to  Robert 
round  my  neck,  but  let  the  boy  go." 

'"Be  still,"  said  De  Aquila.  "I  think  for 
England." 

'So  we  waited  what  our  Lord  of  Pevensey 
should  devise;  and  the  sweat  ran  down 
Fulke' s  forehead. 

'At  last  said  De  Aquila:     " I  am  too  old  to 


112  PUCK  OF  POOK'S  HILL 

judge,  or  to  trust  any  man.  I  do  not  covet 
thy  lands,  as  thou  hast  coveted  mine;  and 
whether  thou  art  any  better  or  any  worse  than 
any  other  black  Angevin  thief,  it  is  for  thy 
King  to  find  out.  Therefore,  go  back  to  thy 
King,  Fulke." 

* "  And  thou  wilt  say  nothing  of  what  has 
passed?"    said  Fulke. 

*  "  Why  should  I  ?  Thy  son  will  stay  with 
me.  If  the  King  calls  me  again  to  leave 
Pevensey,  which  I  must  guard  against  Eng- 
land's enemies;  if  the  King  sends  his  men 
against  me  for  a  traitor;  or  if  I  hear  that  the 
King  in  his  bed  thinks  any  evil  of  me  or  my 
two  knights,  thy  son  will  be  hanged  from  out 
this  window,  Fulke. ' ' ' 

*  But  it  hadn't  anything  to  do  with  his  son,* 
cried  Una,  startled. 

*  How  could  we  have  hanged  Fulke  ? '  said 
Sir  Richard.  *  We  needed  him  to  make  our 
peace  with  the  King.  He  would  have  be- 
trayed half  England  for  the  boy's  sake.  Of 
that  we  were  sure.' 

'I  don't  understand,'  said  Una.  'But  I 
think  it  was  simply  awful.' 

'  So  did  not  Fulke.     He  was  well  pleased.' 

'What?  Because  his  son  was  going  to  be 
killed?' 

'Nay.  Because  De  Aquila  had  shown  him 
how  he  might  save  the  boy's  life  and  his  own 
lands  and  honours.  "I  will  do  it,"  he  said. 
"I  swear  I  will  do  it.  I  will  tell  the  King 
thou  art  no  traitor,  but  the  most  excellent, 
valiant,  and  perfect  of  us  all.  Yes,  I  will 
save  thee." 


OLD  MEN  AT  PEVENSEY        113 

'De  Aquila  looked  still  into  the  bottom  of 
the  cup,  rolling  the  wine- dregs  to  and  fro. 

'  "Ay,"  he  said.  "  If  I  had  a  son,  I  would, 
I  think,  save  him.  But  do  not  by  any  means 
tell  me  how  thou  wilt  go  about  it." 

*"Nay,  nay,"  said  Fulke,  nodding  his  bald 
head  wisely.  "That  is  my  secret.  But  rest 
at  ease,  De  Aquila,  no  hair  of  thy  head  nor 
rood  of  thy  land  shall  be  forfeited,"  and  he 
smiled  like  one  planning  great  good  deeds. 

'"And  henceforward,"  said  De  Aquila,  "I 
counsel  thee  to  serve  one  master — not  two." 

'"What?"  said  Fulke.  "Can  I  work  no 
more  honest  trading  between  the  two  sides 
these  troublous  times  ? ' ' 

' "  Serve  Robert  or  the  King — England  or 
Normandy,"  said  De  Aquila.  "I  care  not 
which  it  is,  but  make  thy  choice  here  and 
now." 

'"The  King,  then,"  said  Fulke,  "for  I  see 
he  is  better  served  than  Robert.  Shall  I 
swear  it?" 

'"No  need,"  said  De  Aquila,  and  he  laid 
his  hand  on  the  parchments  which  Gilbert  had 
written.  "  It  shall  be  some  part  of  my  Gil- 
bert's penance  to  copy  out  the  savoury  tale 
of  thy  life,  till  we  have  made  ten,  twenty,  an 
hundred,  maybe,  copies.  How  many  cattle, 
think  you,  would  the  Bishop  of  Tours  give  for 
that  tale?  Or  thy  brother?  Or  the  Monks 
of  Blois?  Minstrels  will  turn  it  into  songs 
which  thy  own  Saxon  serfs  shall  sing  behind 
their  plough-stilts,  and  men-at-arms  riding 
through  thy  Norman  towns.  From  here  to 
Rome,  Fulke,  men  will  make  very  merry  over 


114  PUCK  OF  POOR'S  HILL 

that  tale,  and  how  Fulke  told  it,  hanging  in  a 
well,  like  a  drowned  puppy.  This  shall  be 
thy  punishment,  if  ever  I  find  thee  double- 
dealing  with  thy  King  any  more.  Meantime, 
the  parchments  stay  here  with  thy  son.  Him 
I  will  return  to  thee  when  thou  hast  made 
my  peace  with  the  King.  The  parchments 
never. ' ' 

'Fulke  hid  his  face  and  groaned. 

'"Bones  of  the  vSaints!"  said  De  Aquila, 
laughing.  "The  pen  cuts  deep.  I  could 
never  have  fetched  that  grunt  out  of  thee 
with  any  sword." 

* "  But  so  long  as  I  do  not  anger  thee,  my 
tale  will  be  secret?"  said  Fulke. 

* "  Just  so  long.  Does  that  comfort  thee, 
Fulke?"  said  De  Aquila. 

'"What  other  comfort  have  ye  left  me?" 
he  said,  and  of  a  sudden  he  wept  hopelessly 
like  a  child,  dropping  his  face  on  his  knees.' 

'Poor  Fulke,'  said  Una. 

*I  pitied  him  also,'  said  Sir  Richard. 

'"After  the  spur,  com,"  said  De  Aquila, 
and  he  threw  Fulke  three  wedges  of  gold  that 
he  had  taken  from  our  little  chest  by  the  bed- 
place. 

'  "  If  I  had  known  this,"  said  Fulke,  catching 
his  breath,  "  I  would  never  have  lifted  hand 
against  Pevensey.  Only  lack  of  this  yellow 
stuff  has  made  me  so  unlucky  in  my  dealings." 

'  It  was  dawn  then,  and  they  stirred  in  the 
Great  Hall  below.  We  sent  down  Fulke's 
mail  to  be  scoured,  and  when  he  rode  away 
at  noon  under  his  own  and  the  King's  banner 
very  splendid  and  stately  did  he  show.     He 


OLD  MEN  AT  PEVENSEY         115 

smoothed  his  long  beard,  and  called  his  son 
to  his  stirrup  and  kissed  him.  De  Aquila 
rode  with  him  as  far  as  the  New  Mill  landward. 
We  thought  the  night  had  been  all  a  dream.' 

*  But  did  he  make  it  right  with  the  King  ? ' 
Dan  asked.  'About  your  not  being  traitors, 
I  mean?' 

Sir  Richard  smiled.  'The  King  sent  no 
second  summons  to  Pevensey,  nor  did  he  ask 
why  De  Aquila  had  not  obeyed  the  first. 
Yes,  that  was  Fulke's  work.  I  know  not 
how  he  did  it,  but  it  was  well  and  swiftly  done. ' 

'Then  you  didn't  do  anything  to  his  son?' 
said  Una. 

'  The  boy?  Oh,  he  was  an  imp.  He  turned 
the  keep  doors  out  of  dortoirs  while  we  had 
him.  He  sang  foul  songs,  learned  in  the 
Barons'  camps — poor  fool;  he  set  the  hounds 
fighting  in  hall ;  he  lit  the  rushes  to  drive  out, 
as  he  said,  the  fleas;  he  drew  his  dagger  on 
Jehan,  who  threw  him^  down  the  stairway  for 
it;  and  he  rode  his  horse  through  crops  and 
among  sheep.  But  when  we  had  beaten  him, 
and  showed  him  wolf  and  deer,  he  followed 
us  old  men  like  a  young,  eager  hound,  and 
called  us  "uncle."  His  father  came  the 
summer's  end  to  take  him  away,  but  the  boy 
had  no  lust  to  go,  because  of  the  otter-hunting, 
and  he  stayed  on  till  the  fox-hunting.  I  gave 
him  a  bittern's  claw  to  bring  him  good  luck 
at  shooting.     An  imp,  if  ever  there  was ! ' 

'  And  what  happened  to  Gilbert  ? '  said  Dan. 

'  Not  even  a  whipping.  De  Aquila  said  he 
would  sooner  a  clerk,  however  false,  that 
knew  the  Manor-roll  than  a  fool,  however  true, 


ii6         PUCK  OF  POOK'S  HILL 

that  must  be  taught  his  work  afresh.  More- 
over, after  that  night  I  think  Gilbert  loved  as 
much  as  he  feared  De  Aquila.  At  least  he 
would  not  leave  us — not  even  when  Vivian, 
the  King's  Clerk,  would  have  made  him 
Sacristan  of  Battle  Abbey.  A  false  fellow, 
but,  in  his  fashion,  bold.' 

'  Did  Robert  ever  land  in  Pevensey  after  all? ' 
Dan  went  on. 

'We  guarded  the  coast  too  well  while  Henry 
was  fighting  his  Barons;  and  three  or  four 
years  later,  when  England  had  peace,  Henry 
crossed  to  Normandy  and  showed  his  brother 
some  work  at  Tenchebrai  that  cured  Robert 
of  fighting.  Many  of  Henry's  men  sailed 
from  Pevensey  to  that  war.  Fulke  came,  I 
remember,  and  we  all  four  lay  in  the  little 
chamber  once  again,  and  drank  together.  De 
Aquila  was  right.  One  should  not  judge  men. 
Fulke  was  merry.  Yes,  always  merry — with 
a  catch  in  his  breath.' 

'And  what  did  you  do  afterwards  ? '  said  Una. 

'We  talked  together  of  times  past.  That 
is  all  men  can  do  when  they  grow  old,  little 
maid.' 

The  bell  for  tea  rang  faintly  across  the 
meadows.  Dan  lay  in  the  bows  of  the  Golden 
Hind;  Una  in  the  stem,  the  book  of  verses 
open  in  her  lap,  was  reading  from  '  The 
Slave's  Dream': — 

'  Again  in  the  mist  and  shadow  of  sleep 
He  saw  his  native  land.' 

'I  don't  know  when  you  began  that,'  said 
Dan,  sleepily. 


OLD  MEN  AT  PEVENSEY         117 

On  the  middle  thwart  of  the  boat,  beside 
Una's  sun-bonnet,  lay  an  Oak  leaf,  an  Ash  leaf, 
and  a  Thorn  leaf,  that  must  have  dropped 
down  from  the  trees  above;  and  the  brook 
giggled  as  though  it  had  just  seen  some  joke. 


THE  RUNES  ON  WELAND'S  SWORD 


A    Smith   makes   me 
To  betray  my  Man 
In  my  first  fight. 

To  gather  Gold 
At  the  world's  end 
I  am  sent. 

The  Gold  I  gather 
Comes  into  England 
Out  of  deep  Water. 

Like  a  shining  Fish 
Then  it  descends 
Into  deep  Water. 

It  is  not  given 
For  goods  or  gear. 
But  for  The  Thing 

The  Gold  I  gather 
A  King  covets 
For  an  ill  use. 

The  Gold  I  gather 
Is  drawn  up 
Out  of  deep  Water. 
119 


I20  PUCK  OF  POOR'S  HILL 

Like  a  shining  Fish 
Then  it  descends 
Into  deep  Water. 

It  is  not  given 
For  goods  or  gear 
But  for  The  Thing. 


A  CENTURION  OF  THE  THIRTIETH 


Cities  and  Thrones  and  Powers, 

Stand  in  Time's  eye, 
Almost  as  long  as  flowers, 

Which  daily  die: 
But,  as  new  buds  put  forth. 

To  glad  new  men. 
Out  of  the  spent  and  unconsidered  Earth, 

The  Cities  rise  again. 

This  season's  Daffodil, 

She  never  hears, 
What  change,  what  chance,  what  chill, 

Cut  down  last  year's  ; 
But  with  hold  countenance. 

And  knowledge  small, 
Esteems  her  seven  days'  continuance 

To  he  perpetual. 

So  Tim£  that  is  o'er -kind. 

To  all  that  he, 
Ordains  us  e'en  as  hlind. 

As  hold  as  she: 
That  in  our  very  death. 

And  hurial  sure, 
Shadow  to  shadow,  well-persuaded,  saith, 

'  See  how  our  works  endure! ' 


Z33 


A  CENTURION  OF  THE  THIRTIETH 

TP\AN  had  come  to  grief  over  his  Latin,  and 
-■-^was  kept  in;  so  Una  went  alone  to  Far 
Wood.  Dan's  big  catapult  and  the  lead  bul- 
lets that  Hobden  had  made  for  him  were  hid- 
den in  an  old  hollow  beech-stub  on  the  west  of 
the  wood.  They  had  named  the  place  out  of 
the  verse  in  Lays  of  Ancient  Rome. 

From  lordly  Volaterrae, 

Where  scowls  the  far-famed  hold, 

Piled  by  the  hands  of  giants 
For  Godlike  Kings  of  old. 

They  were  the  'Godlike  Kings,'  and  when 
old  Hobden  piled  some  comfortable  brush- 
wood between  the  big  wooden  knees  of  Vol- 
aterrae, they  called  him  '  Hands  of   Giants.  * 

Una  slipped  through  their  private  gap  in  the 
fence,  and  sat  still  a  while,  scowling  as  scowlily 
and  lordlily  as  she  knew  how ;  for  *  Volaterrae ' 
is  an  important  watch-tower  that  juts  out  of 
Far  Wood  just  as  Far  Wood  juts  out  of  the 
hillside.  Pook's  Hill  lay  below  her,  and  all 
the  turns  of  the  brook  as  it  wanders  from  out 
of  the  Willingford  Woods,  between  hop- 
gardens, to  old  Hobden' s  cottage  at  the  Forge. 
The  Sou' -West  wind  (there  is  always  a  wind 
by  'Volaterrae')  blew  from  the  bare  ridge 
where  Cherry  Clack  Windmill  stands. 

Now  wind  prowling  through  woods  sounds 
like   exciting   things   going   to   happen,    and 

125 


126  PUCK  OF  POOK'S  HILL 

that  is  why  on  'blowy  days'  you  stand  up  in 
Volaterrae  and  shout  bits  of  the  Lays  to  suit 
its  noises. 

Una  took  Dan's  catapult  from  its  secret 
place,  and  made  ready  to  meet  Lars  Porsena's 
army  stealing  through  the  wind-whitened 
aspens  by  the  brook.  A  gust  boomed  up  the 
valley,  and  Una  chanted  sorrowfully: 

'  Verbenna  down  to  Ostia 

Hath  wasted  all  the  plain; 
Astur  hath  stormed  Janiculum 
And  the  stout  guards  are  slain.' 

But  the  wind,  not  charging  fair  to  the  wood, 
started  aside  and  shook  a  single  oak  in  Glea- 
son's  pasture.  Here  it  made  itself  all  small 
and  crouched  among  the  grasses,  waving  the 
tips  of  them  as  a  cat  waves  the  tip  of  her  tail 
before  she  springs. 

'  Now  welcome — welcome  Sextus,'  sang  Una, 
loading  the  catapult — 

'  Now  welcome  to  thy  home, 
Why  dost  thou  turn  and  run  away  ? 
Here  lies  the  rod  of  Rome.' 

She  fired  into  the  face  of  the  lull,  to  wake  up 
the  cowardly  wind,  and  heard  a  grunt  from 
behind  a  thorn  in  the  pasture. 

'Oh,  my  Winkiel'she  said  aloud,  and  that 
was  something  she  had  picked  up  from  Dan, 
'  I  believe  I've  tickled  up  a  Gleason  cow. ' 

'You  little  painted  beast!'  a  voice  cried. 
'I'll  teach  you  to  sling  your  masters!' 

She  looked  down  most  cautiously,  and  saw 
a  young  man  covered  with  hoopy  bronze 
armour  all  glowing  among  the  late  broom. 


A  CENTURION  OP  THE  THIRTIETH  127 

But  what  Una  admired  beyond  all  was  his 
great  bronze  helmet  with  its  red  horse-tail  that 
flicked  in  the  wind.  She  could  hear  the  long 
hairs  rasp  on  his  shimmery  shoulder-plates. 

'What  does  the  Faun  mean,'  he  said,  half 
aloud  to  himself,  'by  telling  me  the  Painted 
People  have  changed?'  He  caught  sight  of 
Una's  yellow  head.  '  Have  you  seen  a  painted 
lead-slinger?'   he  called. 

'No-o,'  said  Una.  'But  if  you've  seen  a 
bullet ' 

'Seen?'  cried  the  man.  ' It  passed  within 
a  hair's  breadth  of  my  ear. ' 

'Well,  that  was  me.  I'm  most  awfully 
sorry. ' 

'Didn't  the  Faun  tell  you  I  was  coming?' 
He  smiled. 

'  Not  if  you  mean  Puck.  I  thought  you 
were  a  Gleason  cow.  I — I  didn't  know  you 
were  a — a What  are  you?' 

He  laughed  outright,  showing  a  set  of 
splendid  teeth.  His  face  and  eyes  were  dark, 
and  his  eyebrows  met  above  his  big  nose  in 
one  bushy  black  bar. 

'  They  call  me  Parnesius.  I  have  been  an 
officer  of  the  Seventh  Cohort  of  the  Thirtieth 
Legion — the  Ulpia  Victrix.  Did  you  sling 
that  bullet?' 

'  I  did.  I  was  using  Dan's  catapult,  said 
Una.' 

'  Catapults ! '  said  he.  '  I  ought  to  know 
something  about  them.     Show  me!' 

He  leaped  the  rough  fence  with  a  rattle  of 
spear,  shield,  and  armour,  and  hoisted  himself 
into  '  Volaterrae '  as  quicky  as  a  shadow. 


128  PUCK  OF  POOK'S  HILL 

'A  sling  on  a  forked  stick.  /  understand !  * 
he  cried,  and  pulled  at  the  elastic.  '  But 
what  wonderful  beast  yields  this  stretching 
leather  ? ' 

'  It's  laccy — elastic.  You  put  the  bullet 
into  that  loop,  and  then  you  pull  hard.' 

The  man  pulled,  and  hit  himself  square  on 
his  thumb-nail. 

*  Each  to  his  own  weapon, '  he  said,  gravely, 
handing  it  back.  *  I  am  better  with  the  bigger, 
machine,  little  maiden.  But  it's  a  pretty  toy. 
A  wolf  would  laugh  at  it.  Aren't  you  afraid 
of  wolves  ? ' 

'There  aren't  any,'  said  Una. 

*  Never  believe  it !  A  w^oLf  is  like  a  Winged 
Hat.  He  comes  when  he  isn't  expected.  Don't 
they  hunt  wolves  here  ? ' 

'We  don't  hunt,'  said  Una,  remembering 
what  she  had  heard  from  grown-ups.  '  We 
preserve — pheasants.     Do  you  know  them?' 

'  I  ought  to, '  said  the  young  man,  smiling 
again,  and  he  imitated  the  cry  of  the  cock- 
pheasant  so  perfectly  that  a  bird  answered 
out  of  the  wood. 

'  What  a  big  painted  clucking  fool  is  a 
pheasant, '  he  said.     '  Just  like  some  Romans ! ' 

'  But  you're  a  Roman  yourself,  aren't  you?' 
said  Una. 

'Ye-es  and  no.  I'm  one  of  a  good  few 
thousands  who  have  never  seen  Rome  except 
in  a  picture.  My  people  have  lived  at  Vectis 
for  generations.  Vectis!  That  island  West 
yonder  that  you  can  see  from  so  far  in  clear 
weather.' 

'Do  you  mean  the  Isle  of  Wight?     It  lifts 


A  CENTURION  OF  THE  THIRTIETH    1 29 

up  just  before  rain,  and  we  see  it  from  the 
Downs.' 

'Very  likely.  Our  Villa's  on  the  South 
edge  of  the  Island,  by  the  Broken  Cliffs. 
Most  of  it  is  three  hundred  years  old,  but  the 
cow-stables,  where  our  first  ancestor  lived, 
must  be  a  hundred  years  older.  Oh,  quite 
that,  because  the  founder  of  our  family  had 
his  land  given  him  by  Agricola  at  the  Settle- 
ment. It's  not  a  bad  little  place  for  its  size. 
In  spring-time  violets  grow  down  to  the  very 
beach.  I've  gathered  sea- weeds  for  myself 
and  violets  for  my  Mother  many  a  time  with 
our  old  nurse.' 

*  Was  your  nurse  a — a  Romaness  too  ? ' 

'No,  a  Numidian.  Gods  be  good  to  her! 
A  dear,  fat,  brown  thing  with  a  tongue  like 
a  cowbell.  She  was  a  free  w^oman.  By  the 
way,  are  you  free,  maiden?' 

'Oh,  quite,'  said  Una.  'At  least,  till  tea- 
time;  and  in  summer  our  governess  doesn't 
say  much  if  we're  late.' 

The  young  man  laughed  again — a  proper 
understanding  laugh. 

'I  see,'  said  he.  'That  accounts  for  your 
being  in  the  wood.     Wc  hid  among  the  cliffs.' 

'  Did  you  have  a  governess,  then  ? ' 

'Did  we  not?  A  Greek,  too.  She  had  a 
way  of  clutching  her  dress  when  she  hunted 
us  among  the  gorze-bushes  that  made  us 
laugh.  Then  she'd  say  she'd  get  us  whipped. 
She  never  did,  though,  bless  her !  Aglaia  was  a 
thorough  sportswoman,  for  all  her  learning. ' 

'  But  what  lessons  did  you  do — when — 
when  you  were  little ! ' 


I30  PUCK  OF  POOK'S  HILL 

'Ancient  history,  the  Classics,  arithmetic, 
and  so  on,'  he  answered.  'My  sister  and  I 
were  thickheads,  but  my  two  brothers  (I'm 
the  middle  one)  liked  those  things,  and,  of 
course.  Mother  was  clever  enough  for  any 
six.  She  was  nearly  as  tall  as  I  am,  and  she 
looked  like  the  new  statue  on  the  Western 
Road — the  Demeter  of  the  Baskets,  you  know. 
And  funny!  Roma  Dea!  How  Mother  could 
make  us  laugh ! ' 

'What   at?' 

*  Little  jokes  and  sa3angs  that  every  family 
has.     Don't  you  know?' 

'I  know  we  have,  but  I  didn't  know  other 
people  had  them  too,'  said  Una.  'Tell  me 
about  all  your  family,  please.' 

'  Good  families  are  very  much  alike.  Mother 
would  sit  spinning  of  evenings  while  Aglaia 
read  in  her  corner,  and  Father  did  accounts, 
and  we  four  romped  about  the  passages. 
When  our  noise  grew  too  loud  the  Pater 
would  say,  "Less  tumult!  Less  tumult! 
Have  you  never  heard  of  a  Father's  right 
over  his  children?  He  can  slay  them,  my 
loves — slay  them  dead,  and  the  Gods  highly 
approve  of  the  action ! ' '  Then  Mother  would 
prim  up  her  dear  mouth  over  the  wheel 
and  answer :  "  H'm !  I'm  afraid  there 
can't  be  much  of  the  Roman  Father 
about  you!"  Then  the  Pater  would  roll 
up  his  accounts,  and  say,  "I'll  show  you!" 
and  then  —  then,  he'd  be  worse  than  any 
of  us!' 

'  Fathers  can — if  they  like,'  said  Una,  her 
eyes  dancing. 


A  CENTURION  OF  THE  THIRTIETH   131 

'Didn't  I  say  all  good  families  are  very 
much  the  same  ? ' 

'What  did  you  do  in  summer?'  said  Una. 
'  Play  about,  like  us  ? ' 

'Yes,  and  we  visited  our  friends.  There 
are  no  wolves  in  Vectis.  We  had  many 
friends,  and  as  many  ponies  as  we  wished.' 

'  It  must  have  been  lovely, '  said  Una.  '  I 
hope  it  lasted  for  ever. ' 

'  Not  quite,  little  maid.  When  I  was  about 
sixteen  or  seventeen,  the  Father  felt  gouty, 
and  we  all  went  to  the  Waters. ' 

'What  waters?' 

'At  Aquae  Solis.  Every  one  goes  there. 
You  ought  to  get  your  Father  to  take  you 
some  day.' 

'  But  where?     I  don't  know,'  said  Una. 

The  young  man  looked  astonished  for  a 
moment.  'Aquae  Solis,'  he  repeated.  'The 
best  baths  in  Britain.  Just  as  good,  I'm  told, 
as  Rome.  All  the  old  gluttons  sit  in  its  hot 
water,  and  talk  scandal  and  politics.  And  the 
Generals  come  through  the  streets  with  their 
guards  behind  them;  and  the  magistrates 
come  in  their  chairs  with  their  stiff  guards 
behind  them;  and  you  meet  fortune-tellers, 
and  goldsmiths,  and  merchants,  and  philos- 
ophers, and  feather-sellers,  and  ultra-Roman 
Britons,  and  ultra-British  Romans,  and  tame 
tribesmen  pretending  to  be  civilised,  and  Jew 
lecturers,  and — oh,  everybody  interesting. 
We  young  people,  of  course,  took  no  interest 
in  politics.  We  had  not  the  gout :  there  were 
many  of  our  age  like  us.  We  did  not  find 
life  sad. 


132  PUCK  OF  POOR'S  HILL 

'  But  while  we  were  enjoying  ourselves 
without  thinking,  my  sister  met  the  son  of  a 
magistrate  in  the  West — and  a  year  after- 
wards she  was  married  to  him.  My  young 
brother,  who  was  always  interested  in  plants 
and  roots,  met  the  First  Doctor  of  a  Legion 
from  the  City  of  the  Legions,  and  he  decided 
that  he  would  be  an  Army  doctor.  I  do  not 
think  it  is  a  profession  for  a  w^ell-bom  man, 
but  then — Fm  not  my  brother.  He  went  to 
Rome  to  study  medicine,  and  now  he's  First 
Doctor  of  a  Legion  in  Egypt — at  Antinoe, 
I  think,  but  I  have  not  heard  from  him  for 
some  time. 

*  My  eldest  brother  came  across  a  Greek 
philosopher,  and  told  my  Father  that  he 
intended  to  settle  down  on  the  estate  as  a 
farmer  and  a  philosopher.  You  see' — the 
young  man's  eyes  twinkled — 'his  philosopher 
was  a  long-haired  one ! ' 

'  I  thought  philosophers  w^ere  bald,'  said 
Una. 

'  Not  all.  She  was  very  pretty.  I  don't 
blame  him.  Nothing  could  have  suited  me 
better  than  my  eldest  brother's  doing  this, 
for  I  was  only  too  keen  to  join  the  Army.  I 
had  always  feared  I  should  have  to  stay  at 
home  and  look  after  the  estate  while  my 
brother  took  this.' 

He  rapped  on  his  great  glistening  shield 
that  never  seemed  to  be  in  his  way. 

*  So  we  were  well  contented — we  young 
people — and  we  rode  back  to  Clausentum 
along  the  Wood  Road  very  quietly.  But 
when  we  reached  home,  Aglaia,  our  governess, 


A  CENTURION  OF  THE  THIRTIETH  133 

saw  what  had  come  to  us.  I  remember  her 
at  the  door,  the  torch  over  her  head,  watching 
us  chmb  the  cliff -path  from  the  boat.  "Aie! 
Aie!"  she  said.  "Children  you  went  away. 
Men  and  a  woman  you  return!"  Then  she 
kissed  Mother,  and  Mother  wept.  Thus  our 
visit  to  the  Waters  settled  our  fates  for  each 
of  us,  Maiden.' 

He  rose  to  his  feet  and  listened,  leaning  on 
the  shield-rim. 

'  I  think  that's  Dan — my  brother,'  said  Una. 

'  Yes ;  and  the  Faun  is  with  him, '  he  replied, 
as  Dan  with  Puck  stumbled  through  the 
copse. 

'  We  should  have  come  sooner,'  Puck  called, 
'but  the  beauties  of  your  native  tongue,  O 
Pamesius,  have  enthralled  this  young  citizen. ' 

Pamesius  looked  bewildered,  even  when 
Una  explained. 

'  Dan  said  the  plural  of  "  dominus "  was 
"  dominoes, "  and  when  Miss  Blake  said  it 
wasn't  he  said  he  supposed  it  was  "back- 
gammon," and  so  he  had  to  write  it  out  twice 
— for  cheek,  you  know.' 

Dan  had  climbed  into  Volaterrae,  hot  and 
panting. 

'I've  run  nearly  all  the  way,'  he  gasped, 
'and  then  Puck  met  me.  How  do  you  do, 
Sir?' 

*  I  am  in  good  health, '  Pamesius  answered. 
'  See !  I  have  tried  to  bend  the  bow  of  Ulysses, 
but 'He  held  up  his  thumb. 

'I'm  sorry.  You  must  have  pulled  off  too 
soon, '  said  Dan.  '  Puck  said  you  were  telling 
Una  a  story.' 


134  PUCK  OF  POOR'S  HILL 

'Continue,  O  Pamesius,'  said  Puck,  who 
had  perched  himself  on  a  dead  branch  above 
them.  *  I  will  be  chorus.  Has  he  puzzled 
you  much,  Una?' 

'  Not  a  bit,  except — I  didn't  know  where 
Ak — Ak  something  was,'  she  answered. 

'  Oh,  Aquae  Solis.  That's  Bath,  where  the 
buns  come  from.  Let  the  hero  tell  his  own 
tale.' 

Pamesius  pretended  to  thrust  his  spear  at 
Puck's  legs,  but  Puck  reached  down,  caught 
at  the  horse-tail  plume,  and  pulled  off  the  tall 
helmet. 

'Thanks,  jester,'  said  Pamesius,  shaking 
his  curly  dark  head.  'That  is  cooler.  Now 
hang  it  up  for  me.     .     .     . 

'  I  was  telling  your  sister  how  I  joined  the 
Army,'  he  said  to  Dan. 

'Did  you  have  to  pass  an  Exam?'  Dan 
asked,  eagerly. 

'  No.  I  went  to  my  Father,  and  said  I 
should  like  to  enter  the  Dacian  Horse  (I  had 
seen  some  at  Aquae  Solis) ;  but  he  said  I 
had  better  begin  service  in  a  regular  Legion 
from  Rome.  Now,  like  many  of  our  young- 
sters, I  was  not  too  fond  of  anything  Ro- 
man. The  Roman-born  officers  and  mag- 
istrates looked  down  on  us  British-bom 
as  though  we  were  barbarians.  I  told  my 
Father  so. 

'"I  know  they  do,"  he  said;  "but  re- 
member, after  all,  we  are  the  people  of  the 
Old  Stock,  and  our  dutv  is  to  the  Empire." 

'"To  which  Empire?"  I  asked.  "We  split 
the  Eagle  before  I  was  bom." 


A  CENTURION  OF  THE  THIRTIETH   135 

'"What  thieves'  talk  is  that?"  said  my 
Father.     He  hated  slang. 

'"Well,  Sir,"  I  said,  "we've  one  Emperor 
in  Rome,  and  I  don't  know  how  many  Em- 
perors the  outlying  Provinces  have  set  up 
from  time  to  time.  Which  am  I  to  fol- 
low?" 

'"Gratian,"  said  he.  "At  least  he's  a 
sportsman." 

'"He's  all  that,"  I  said.  "Hasn't  he 
turned  himself  into  a  raw-beef-eating  Scy- 
thian?" 

'  "  Where  did  you  hear  of  it  ? "  said  the  Pater. 

'"At  Aquae  Solis,"  I  said.  It  was  per- 
fectly true.  This  precious  Emperor  Gratian 
of  ours  had  a  bodyguard  of  fur-cloaked 
Scythians,  and  he  was  so  crazy  about  them 
that  he  dressed  like  them.  In  Rome  of  all 
places  in  the  world!  It  was  as  bad  as  if  my 
own  Father  had  painted  hmself  blue! 

'"No  matter  for  the  clothes,"  said  the 
Pater.  "They  are  only  the  fringe  of  the 
trouble.  It  began  before  your  time  or  mine. 
Rome  has  forsaken  her  Gods,  and  must  be 
punished.  The  great  war  with  the  Painted 
People  broke  out  in  the  very  year  the  temples 
of  our  Gods  were  destroyed.  We  beat  the 
Painted  People  in  the  very  year  our  temples 
were  rebuilt.  Go  back  further  still."  .  .  . 
He  went  back  to  the  time  of  Diocletian;  and 
to  listen  to  him  you  would  have  thought 
Eternal  Rome  herself  was  on  the  edge  of 
destruction,  just  because  a  few  people  had 
become  a  little  large-minded. 

'/  knew  nothing  about  it.     Aglaia  never 


136  PUCK  OF  POOR'S  HILL 

taught  us  the  history  of  our  own  country. 
She  was  so  full  of  her  ancient  Greeks. 

'"There  is  no  hope  for  Rome,"  said  the 
Pater,  at  last.  ' '  She  has  forsaken  her  Gods, 
but  if  the  Gods  forgive  us  here,  we  may  save 
Britain.  To  do  that,  we  must  keep  the 
Painted  People  back.  Therefore,  I  tell  you, 
Parnesius,  as  a  Father,  that  if  your  heart  is 
set  on  service,  your  place  is  among  men  on 
the  Wall — and  not  with  women  among  the 
cities.'" 

'  What  Wall  ? '  asked  Dan  and  Una  at  once. 

'Father  meant  the  one  we  call  Hadrian's 
Wall.  I'll  tell  you  about  it  later.  It  was 
built  long  ago,  across  North  Britain,  to  keep 
out  the  Painted  People — Picts  you  call  them. 
Father  had  fought  in  the  great  Pict  War  that 
lasted  more  than  twenty  years,  and  he  knew 
what  fighting  meant.  Theodosius,  one  of 
our  great  Generals,  had  chased  the  little  beasts 
back  far  into  the  North  before  I  was  bom: 
down  at  Vectis,  of  course,  we  never  troubled 
our  heads  about  them.  But  when  my  Father 
spoke  as  he  did,  I  kissed  his  hand,  and  waited 
for  orders.  We  British-born  Romans  know 
what  is  due  to  our  parents. ' 

'If  I  kissed  my  Father's  hand,  he'd  laugh,' 
said  Dan.  ' 

'Customs  change;  but  if  you  do  not  obey 
your  father,  the  Gods  remember  it.  You 
may  be  quite  sure  of  that. 

'  After  our  talk,  seeing  I  was  in  earnest,  the 
Pater  sent  me  over  to  Clausentum  to  learn 
my  foot-drill  in  a  barrack  full  of  foreign 
Auxiliaries — as  unwashed  and  unshaved  a  mob 


A  CENTURION  OF  THE  THIRTIETH   137 

of  mixed  barbarians  as  ever  scrubbed  a  breast- 
plate. It  was  your  stick  in  their  stomachs 
and  your  shield  in  their  faces  to  push  them 
into  any  sort  of  formation.  When  I  had 
learned  my  work  the  Instructor  gave  me 
a  handful — and  they  were  a  handful! — of 
Gauls  and  Iberians  to  polish  up  till  they  were 
sent  to  their  stations  up-country.  I  did  my 
best,  and  one  night  a  villa  in  the  suburbs 
caught  fire,  and  I  had  my  handful  out  and  at 
work  before  any  of  the  other  troops.  I 
noticed  a  quiet-looking  man  on  the  lawn, 
leaning  on  a  stick.  He  watched  us  passing 
buckets  from  the  pond,  and  at  last  he  said  to 
me:    "Who  are  you?" 

'"A  probationer,  waiting  for  a  cohort,"  I 
answered.  /  did'nt  know  who  he  was  from 
Deucalion! 

"'Born  in  Britain?"    he  said. 

"'Yes,  if  you  were  bom  in  Spain,"  I  said, 
for  he  neighed  his  words  like  an  Iberian  mule. 

' "  And  what  might  you  call  yourself  when 
you  are  at  home? "    he  said  laughing. 

'"That  depends,"  I  answered;  "some- 
times one  thing  and  sometimes  another. 
But  now  I'm  busy." 

*He  said  no  more  till  we  had  saved  the 
family  gods  (they  were  respectable  house- 
holders), and  then  he  grunted  across  the 
laurels:  "  Listen,  young  sometimes-one-thing- 
and-sometimes-another.  In  future  call  your- 
self Centurion  of  the  Seventh  Cohort  of  the 
Thirtieth,  the  Ulpia  Victrix.  That  will  help 
me  to  remember  you.  Your  Father  and  a 
few  other  people  call  me  Maximus." 


138  PUCK  OF  POOR'S  HILL 

*  He  tossed  me  the  polished  stick  he  was 
leaning  on,  and  went  away.  You  might  have 
knocked  me  down  with  it ! ' 

*  Who  was  he  ? '  said  Dan. 

*  Maximus  himself,  our  great  General !  The 
General  of  Britain  who  had  been  Theodosius's 
right  hand  in  the  Pict  War!  Not  only  had  he 
given  me  my  Centurion's  stick  direct,  but 
three  steps  in  a  good  Legion  as  well!  A  new 
man  generally  begins  in  the  Tenth  Cohort  of 
his  Legion,  and  works  up.' 

*  And  were  you  pleased  ? '    said  Una. 

*  Very.  I  thought  Maximus  had  chosen  me 
for  my  good  looks  and  fine  style  in  marching, 
but,  when  I  went  home,  the  Pater  told  me  he 
had  served  under  Maximus  in  the  great  Pict 
War,  and  had   asked  him  to  promote  me.* 

*  A  child  you  were ! '  said  Puck,  from  above. 
*I  was,'   said  Pamesius.     'Don't  begrudge 

it  me,  Faun.  Afterwards — the  Gods  know 
I  put  aside  the  games ! '  And  Puck  nodded, 
brown  chin  on  brown  hand,  his  big  eyes  still. 

*  The  night  before  I  left  we  sacrificed  to  our 
ancestors — the  usual  little  Home  Sacrifice — 
but  I  never  prayed  so  earnestly  to  all  the  Good 
Shades,  and  then  I  went  with  my  Father  by 
boat  to  Regnum,  and  across  the  chalk  east- 
wards to  Anderida  yonder.' 

'Regnum?  Anderida?'  The  children  turned 
their  faces  to  Puck. 

'Regnum's  Chichester,'  he  said,  pointing 
towards  Cherry  Clack,  and— he  threw  his  arm 
South  behind  him — 'Anderida's  Pevensey.' 

'  Pevensey  again! '  said  Dan.  '  Where  We- 
land  landed?' 


CENTURION  OF  THE  THIRTIETH  139 

'Weland  and  a  few  others,'  said  Puck. 
'Pevensey  isn't  young  —  even  compared  to 
me!' 

'The  head-quarters  of  the  Thirtieth  lay  at 
Anderida  in  summer,  but  my  own  Cohort,  the 
Seventh,  was  on  the  Wall  up  North.  Maxi- 
mus  was  inspecting  Auxiliaries — the  Abulci, 
I  think — at  Anderida,  and  we  stayed  with 
him,  for  he  and  my  Father  were  very  old 
friends.  I  was  only  there  ten  days  when  I 
was  ordered  to  go  up  with  thirty  men  to  my 
Cohort.'  He  laughed  merrily.  'A  man  never 
forgets  his  first  march.  I  was  happier  than 
any  Emperor  when  I  led  my  handful  through 
the  North  Gate  of  the  Camp,  and  we  saluted 
the  guard  and  the  Altar  of  Victory  there.' 

'How?    How?'   said  Dan  and  Una. 

Pamesius  smiled,  and  stood  up,  flashing 
in  his  armour. 

*  So ! '  said  he ;  and  he  moved  slowly  through 
the  beautiful  movements  of  the  Roman  Salute, 
that  ends  with  a  hollow  clang  of  the  shield 
coming  into  its  place  between  the  shoulders. 

*Hai!'  said  Puck.  'That  sets  one  think- 
ing! ' 

'We  went  out  fully  armed,'  said  Pamesius, 
sitting  down ;  '  but  as  soon  as  the  road  entered 
the  Great  Forest,  my  men  expected  the  pack- 
horses  to  hang  their  shields  on.  "No!"  I 
said;  "  you  can  dress  like  women  in  Anderida, 
but  while  you're  with  me  you  will  carry  your 
own  weapons  and  armour." 

'  "  But  it's  hot,"  said  one  of  them,  "  and  we 
haven't  a  doctor.  Suppose  we  get  sunstroke, 
or  a  fever?" 


I40  PUCK  OF  POOR'S  HILL 

'"Then  die,"  I  said,  "and  a  good  riddance 
to  Rome!  Up  shield — up  spears,  and  tighten 
your  foot-wear!" 

' "  Don't  think  yourself  Emperor  of  Britain 
already,"  a  fellow  shouted.  I  knocked  him 
over  with  the  butt  of  my  spear,  and  explained 
to  these  Roman-bom  Romans  that,  if  there 
were  any  further  trouble,  we  should  go  on 
with  one  man  short.  And,  by  the  Light  of 
the  Sun,  I  meant  it  too!  My  raw  Gauls  at 
Clausentum  had  never  treated  me  so. 

*  Then,  quietly  as  a  cloud,  Maximus  rode  out 
of  the  fern  (my  Father  behind  him),  and  reined 
up  across  the  road.  He  wore  the  Purple,  as 
though  he  were  already  Emperor;  his  leggings 
were  of  white  buckskin  laced  with  gold. 

*  My  men  dropped  like — like  partridges. 

*  He  said  nothing  for  some  time,  only  looked, 
with  his  eyes  puckered.  Then  he  crooked  his 
forefinger,  and  my  men  walked — crawled,  I 
mean — to  one  side. 

*  "Stand  in  the  sun,  children,"  he  said,  and 
they  formed  up  on  the  hard  road. 

* "  What  would  you  have  done?  "  he  said  to 
me,  "  If  I  had  not  been  here?  " 

*"I  should  have  killed  that  man,"  I  an- 
swered. 

'"Kill  him  now,"  he  said.  "He  will  not 
move  a  limb." 

'"No,"  I  said.  "You've  taken  my  men 
out  of  my  command.  I  should  only  be  your 
butcher  if  I  killed  him  now."  Do  you  see 
what  I  meant  ? '     Pamesius  turned  to  Dan. 

'Yes,'  said  Dan.  'It  wouldn't  have  been 
fair,  somehow.' 


A  CENTURION  OF  THE  THIRTIETH  141 

'  That  was  what  I  thought, '  said  Pamesius. 
But  Maximus  frowned.  "  You'll  never  be  an 
Emperor,"  he  said.  "Not  even  a  General 
will  you  be." 

'  I  was  silent,  but  my  Father  seemed  pleased. 

*"I  came  here  to  see  the  last  of  you,"  he 
said. 

'"You  have  seen  it,"  said  Maximus.  "I 
shall  never  need  your  son  any  more.  He  will 
live  and  he  will  die  an  officer  of  a  Legion — 
and  he  might  have  been  Prefect  of  one  of 
my  Provinces.  Now  eat  and  drink  with  us," 
he  said.  "  Your  men  will  wait  till  you  have 
finished." 

'My  miserable  thirty  stood  like  wine-skins 
glistening  in  the  hot  sun,  and  Maximus  led  us 
to  where  his  people  had  set  a  meal.  Himself 
he  mixed  the  wine. 

*"A  year  from  now,"  he  said,  "you  will 
remember  that  you  have  sat  with  the  Emperor 
of  Britain — and  Gaul." 

'  "  Yes,"  said  the  Pater,  "  you  can  drive  two 
mules — Gaul  and  Britain." 

*  "  Five  years  hence  you  will  remember  that 
you  have  drunk" — he  passed  me  the  cup  and 
there  was  blue  borage  in  it — "with  the  Em- 
peror of  Rome!" 

'"No;  you  can't  drive  three  mules;  they 
will  tear  you  in  pieces,"  said  my  Father. 

'  "  And  you  on  the  Wall,  among  the  heather, 
will  weep  because  your  notion  of  justice  was 
more  to  you  than  the  favour  of  the  Emperor 
of  Rome." 

'I  sat  quite  still.  One  does  not  answer  a 
General  who  wears  the  Purple. 


142  PUCK  OF  POOR'S  HILL 

'"I  am  not  angry  with  you,"  he  went  on; 
"  I  owe  too  much  to  your  Father " 

'  "  You  owe  me  nothing  but  advice  that  you 
never  took,"  said  the  Pater. 

'  " to  be  unjust  to  any  of  your  family. 

Indeed,  I  say  you  will  make  a  good  officer, 
but,  so  far  as  I  am  concerned,  on  the  Wall  you 
will  live,  and  on  the  Wall  you  will  die,"  said 
Maximus. 

'"Very  like,"  said  my  Father.  "But  we 
shall  have  the  Picts  and  their  friends  breaking 
through  before  long.  You  cannot  move  aU 
troops  out  of  Britain  to  make  you  Emperor, 
and  expect  the  North  to  sit  quiet." 

*  **  I  follow  my  destiny,"  said  Maximus. 

'"Follow  it,  then,"  said  my  Father  pulling 
up  a  fern  root;   "  and  die  as  Theodosius  died." 

'"Ah!"  said  Maximus.  "  My  old  General 
was  killed  because  he  served  the  Empire  too 
well.  /  may  be  killed,  but  not  for  that  reason, ' 
and  he  smiled  a  little  pale  grey  smile  that 
made  my  blood  run  cold. 

'"Then  I  had  better  follow  my  destiny," 
I  said,  "  and  take  my  men  to  the  Wall." 

'  He  looked  at  me  a  long  time,  and  bowed 
his  head  slanting  like  a  Spaniard.  "  Follow 
it,  boy,"  he  said.  That  was  all.  I  was  only 
too  glad  to  get  away,  though  I  had  many 
messages  for  home.  I  found  my  men  stand- 
ing as  they  had  been  put — they  had  not  even 
shifted  their  feet  in  the  dust, — and  off  I 
marched,  still  feeling  that  terrific  smile  like 
an  east  wind  up  my  back.  I  never  halted 
them  till  sunset,  and' — he  turned  about  and 
looked  at   Pook's  Hill  below  him — 'then  I 


A  CENTURION  OF  THE  THIRTIETH  143 

halted  yonder.'  He  pointed  to  the  broken, 
bracken-covered  shoulder  of  the  Forge  Hill 
behind  old  Hobden's  cottage. 

'There?  Why,  that's  only  the  old  Forge- 
where  they  made  iron  once,'  said  Dan. 

'  Very  good  stuff  it  was  too,'  said  Pamesius, 
calmly.  'We  mended  three  shoulder-straps 
here  and  had  a  spear-head  riveted.  The 
forge  was  rented  from  the  Government  by 
a  one-eyed  smith  from  Carthage.  I  remember 
we  called  him  Cylops.  He  sold  me  a  beaver- 
skin  rug  for  my  sister's  room.' 

'  But  it  couldn't  have  been  here, '  Dan 
insisted. 

'  But  it  was !  From  the  Altar  of  Victory 
at  Anderida  to  the  First  Forge  in  the  Forest 
here  is  twelve  miles  seven  hundred  paces.  It 
is  all  in  the  Road  Book.  A  man  doesn't  forget 
his  first  march.     I   think  I   could  tell  you 

every    station    between    this    and '     He 

leaned  forward,  but  his  eye  was  caught  by 
the  setting  sun. 

It  had  come  down  to  the  top  of  Cherry 
Clack  Hill,  and  the  light  poured  in  between 
the  tree  trunks  so  that  you  could  see  red  and 
gold  and  black  deep  into  the  heart  of  Far 
Wood;  and  Pamesius  in  his  armour  shone  as 
though  he  had  been  afire. 

'  Wait,'  he  said,  lifting  a  hand,  and  the  sun- 
light jinked  on  his  glass  bracelet.  'Wait! 
I  pray  to  Mithras ! ' 

He  rose  and  stretched  his  arms  westward, 
with  deep,  splendid-sounding  words. 

Ihen  Puck  began  to  sing  too,  in  a  voice 
like  bells  tolling,  and  as  he  sang  he  slipped 


144  PUCK  OF  POOR'S  HILL 

from  '  Volaterrae '  to  the  ground,  and  beckoned 
the  children  to  follow.  They  obeyed;  it 
seemed  as  though  the  voices  were  pushing 
them  along;  and  through  the  goldy-brown 
light  on  the  beech  leaves  they  walked,  while 
Puck  between  them  chanted  something  like 
this: — 

Cur  mundus  militat  sub  vana  gloria 
Cujus  prosperitas  est  transitoria? 
Tarn  cito  labitur  ejus  potentia 
Quam  vasa  figuli  quae  sunt  fragilia. 

They  found  themselves  at  the  little  locked 
gates  of  the  wood. 

Quo  Caesar  abiit  celsus  imperio? 

Vel  Dives  splendidus  totus  in  prandio? 

Die  ubi  Tullius 

Still  singing,  he  took  Dan's  hand  and 
wheeled  him  round  to  face  Una  as  she  came 
out  of  the  gate.  It  shut  behind  her,  at  the 
same  time  as  Puck  threw  the  memory- 
magicking  Oak,  Ash,  and  Thorn  leaves  over 
their  heads. 

'  Well,  you  are  jolly  late, '  said  Una.  '  Couldn't 
you  get  away  before  ? ' 

'I  did,'  said  Dan.  'I  got  away  in  lots  of 
time,  but — but  I  didn't  know  it  was  so  late. 
Where' ve  you  been?' 

'  In  Volaterrae — waiting  for  you. ' 

'  Sorry,'  said  Dan.  '  It  was  all  that  beastly 
Latin.' 


A  BRITISH-ROMAN  SONG 

(A.  D.  406) 

My  father's  father  saw  it  not, 

And  /,  belike,  shall  never  come, 
To  look  on  that  so-holy  spot — 

The  very  Rome — 

Crowned  by  all  Time,  all  Art,  all  Might, 
The  equal  work  of  Gods  and  Man — 
City  beneath  whose  oldest  height 

The  Race  began, — 

Soon  to  send  forth  again  a  brood 

Unshakeable,  we  pray,  that  clings, 
To  Rome's  thrice-hammered  hardihood — 
In  arduous  things. 

Strong  heart  with  triple  armour  bound, 
Beat  strongly,  for  thy  life-blood  runs. 
Age  after  Age,  the  Empire  round — 
In  us  thy  Sons, 

Who,  distant  from  the  Seven  Hills, 

Loving  and  serving  much,  require 
Thee,  Thee  to  guard  'gainst  hom£-born  ills. 
The  Imperial  Fire! 


145 


ON  THE  GREAT  WALL 


Sec  page  152 
'There's  where  you  meet  hunters,  and  trappers  for  the  Circuses, 
prodding  along  chained  bears  and  muzzled  wolves.' 


ON  THE  GREAT  WALL 


When  I  left  Rome  for  Lalage's  sake 
By  the  Legions'  Road  to  Rimini, 
She  vowed  her  heart  was  mine  to  take 
With  me  and  my  shield  to  Rimini — 
(Till  the  Eagles  flew  from  Rimini !) 
And  I've  tramped  Britain  and  I've  tramped  Gaul 
And  the  Pontic  shore  where  the  snow-flakes  fall 
As  white  as  the  neck  of  Lalage — 
As  cold  as  the  heart  of  Lalage ! 
And  I've  lost  Britain  and  I've  lost  Gaul 

(the  voice  seemed  very  cheerftd  about  it), 

And  I've  lost  Rome,  and  worst  of  all, 
I've  lost  Lalage! 

THEY  were  standing  by  the  gate  to  Far 
Wood  when  they  heard  this  song.  With- 
out a  word  they  hurried  to  their  private  gap 
and  wriggled  through  the  hedge  almost  atop 
of  a  jay  that  was  feeding  from  Puck's  hand. 

*  Gently ! '  said  Puck.  *  What  are  you  look- 
ing for  ? ' 

'Parnesius,  of  course,'  Dan  answered. 
'We've  only  just  remembered  yesterday.  It 
isn't  fair.' 

Puck  chuckled  as  he  rose.  '  I'm  sorry, 
but  children  who  spend  the  afternoon  with 
me  and  a  Roman  Centurion  need  a  little 
settling  dose  of  Magic  before  they  go  to  tea 
with  their  governess.  Ohe,  Pamesius!'  he 
called, 

149 


I50  PUCK  OF  POOR'S  HILL 

'Here,  Faun! '  came  the  answer  from  '  Vola- 
terrae.'  They  could  see  the  shimmer  of 
bronze  armour  in  the  beech  crotch,  and  the 
friendly  flash  of  the  great  shield  uplifted. 

*  I  have  driven  out  the  Britons.'  Pamesius 
laughed  like  a  boy.  '  I  occupy  their  high 
forts.  But  Rome  is  mercifiil!  You  may 
come  up.'     And  up  they  three  all  scrambled. 

'What  was  the  song  you  were  singing  just 
now?'  said  Una,  as  soon  as  she  had  settled 
herself. 

'That?  Oh,  Rimini.  It's  one  of  the  tunes 
that  are  always  being  bom  somewhere  in  the 
Empire.  They  run  like  a  pestilence  for  six 
months  or  a  year,  till  another  one  pleases  the 
Legions,  and  then  they  march  to  that. ' 

'Tell  them  about  the  marching,  Pamesius. 
Few  people  nowadays  walk  from  end  to  end 
of  this  country,'  said  Puck. 

'The  greater  their  loss.  I  know  nothing 
better  than  the  Long  March  when  your  feet 
are  hardened.  You  begin  after  the  mists 
have  risen,  and  you  end,  perhaps,  an  hour 
after  sundown.' 

'And  what  do  you  have  to  eat?'  Dan 
asked,  promptly. 

*  Fat  bacon,  beans,  and  bread,  and  whatever 
wine  happens  to  be  in  the  rest-houses.  But 
soldiers  are  bom  grumblers.  Their  very  first 
day  out,  my  men  complained  of  our  water- 
ground  British  corn.  They  said  it  wasn't 
so  filling  as  the  rough  stuff  that  is  ground  in 
the  Roman  ox-mills.  However,  they  had  to 
fetch  and  eat  it. ' 

'Fetch  it?     Where  from?'  said  Una. 


ON  THE  GREAT  WALL  151 

'From  that  newly-invented  water-mill  be- 
low the  Forge.' 

'That's  Forge  Mill— our  Mill!'  Una  looked 
at  Puck. 

'  Yes ;  yours, '  Puck  put  in.  *  How  old  did 
you  think  it  was  ? ' 

*  I  don't  know.  Didn't  Sir  Richard  Dalyn- 
gridge  talk  about  it?' 

'  He  did,  and  it  was  old  in  his  day, '  Puck 
answered.     'Hundreds  of  years  old.' 

'  It  was  new  in  mine, '  said  Pamesius.  '  My 
men  looked  at  the  flour  in  their  helmets  as 
though  it  had  been  a  nest  of  adders.  They 
did  it  to  try  my  patience.  But  I — addressed 
them,  and  we  became  friends.  To  tell  the 
truth,  they  taught  me  the  Roman  Step.  You 
see,  I'd  only  served  with  quick-marching 
Auxiliaries.  A  Legion's  pace  is  altogether 
different.  It  is  a  long,  slow  stride,  that  never 
varies  from  sunrise  to  sunset.  "Rome's 
Race — Rome's  Pace,"  as  the  proverb  says. 
Twenty-four  miles  in  eight  hours,  neither 
more  nor  less.  Head  and  spear  up,  shield  on 
your  back,  cuirass-collar  open  one  hand's 
breadth — and  that's  how  you  take  the  Eagles 
through  Britain.' 

'And  did  you  meet  any  adventures?'  said 
Dan. 

'There  are  no  adventures  South  the  Wall,' 
said  Pamesius.  'The  worst  thing  that  hap- 
pened me  was  having  to  appear  before  a 
magistrate  up  North,  where  a  wandering 
philosopher  had  jeered  at  the  Eagles.  I  was 
able  to  show  that  the  old  man  had  deliberately 
blocked  our  road,   and  the  magistrate  told 


152  PUCK  OF  POOR'S  HILL 

him,  out  of  his  own  Book,  I  believe,  that, 
whatever  his  God  might  be,  he  should  pay 
proper  respect  to  Caesar.' 

'  What  did  you  do  ? '  said  Dan. 

'Went  on.  Why  should  I  care  for  such 
things,  my  business  being  to  reach  my  station  ? 
It  took  me  twenty  days. 

'  Of  course,  the  farther  North  you  go  the 
emptier  are  the  roads.  At  last  you  fetch 
clear  of  the  forests  and  climb  bare  hills,  where 
wolves  howl  in  the  ruins  of  our  cities  that  have 
been.  No  more  pretty  girls;  no  more  jolly 
magistrates  who  knew  your  Father  when 
he  was  young,  and  invite  you  to  stay  with 
them;  no  news  at  the  temples  and  way- 
stations  except  bad  news  of  wild  beasts. 
There's  where  you  meet  hunters,  and  trappers 
for  the  Circuses,  prodding  along  chained  bears 
and  muzzled  wolves.  Your  pony  shies  at 
them,  and  your  men  laugh. 

'The  houses  change  from  gardened  villas 
to  shut  forts  with  watch-towers  of  grey  stone, 
and  great  stone-walled  sheepfolds,  guarded 
by  armed  Britons  of  the  North  Shore.  In  the 
naked  hills  beyond  the  naked  houses,  where 
the  shadows  of  the  clouds  play  like  cavalry 
charging,  you  see  puffs  of  black  smoke  from 
the  mines.  The  hard  road  goes  on  and  on — 
and  the  wind  sings  through  your  helmet- 
plume — past  altars  to  Legions  and  Generals 
forgotten,  and  broken  statues  of  Gods  and 
Heroes,  and  thousands  of  graves  where  the 
mountain  foxes  and  hares  peep  at  you.  Red- 
hot  in  summer,  freezing  in  winter,  is  that  big, 
purple  heather  country  of  broken  stone. 


ON  THE  GREAT  WALL  153 

'  Just  when  you  think  you  are  at  the  world's 
end,  you  see  a  smoke  from  East  to  West  as 
far  as  the  eye  can  turn,  and  then,  under  it, 
also  as  far  as  the  eye  can  stretch,  houses  and 
temples,  shops  and  theatres,  barracks,  and 
granaries,  trickling  along  like  dice  behind — 
always  behind — one  long,  low,  rising  and 
falling,  and  hiding  and  showing  line  of  towers. 
And  that  is  the  Wall!' 

*Ah!'   said  the  children  taking  breath. 

*  You  may  well, '  said  Pamesius.  '  Old  men 
who  have  followed  the  Eagles  since  boyhood 
say  nothing  in  the  Empire  is  more  wonderful 
than  first  sight  of  the  Wall!' 

'  Is  it  just  a  Wall?  Like  the  one  round  the 
kitchen-garden?'    said  Dan. 

*  No,  no!  It  is  the  Wall.  Along  the  top  are 
towers  with  guard-houses,  small  towers,  be- 
tween. Even  on  the  narrowest  part  of  it 
three  men  with  shields  can  walk  abreast  from 
guard-house  to  guard-house.  A  little  cur- 
tain wall,  no  higher  than  a  man's  neck,  runs 
along  the  top  of  the  thick  wall,  so  that  from 
a  distance  you  see  the  helmets  of  the  sentries 
sliding  back  and  forth  like  beads.  Thirty 
feet  high  is  the  Wall,  and  on  the  Picts'  side, 
the  North,  is  a  ditch,  strewn  with  blades  of 
old  swords  and  spear-heads  set  in  wood,  and 
tyres  of  wheels  joined  by  chains.  The  Little 
People  come  there  to  steal  iron  for  their 
arrow-heads. 

'  But  the  Wall  itself  is  not  more  wonderful 
than  the  town  behind  it.  Long  ago  there 
were  great  ramparts  and  ditches  on  the 
South  side,  and  no  one  was  allowed  to  build 


154  PUCK  OF  POOR'S  HILL 

there.  Now  the  ramparts  are  partly  pulled 
down  and  built  over,  from  end  to  end  of  the 
Wall;  making  a  thin  town  eighty  miles 
long.  Think  of  it!  One  roaring,  rioting, 
cockfighting,  wolf-baiting,  horse-racing  town, 
from  I  tuna  on  the  West  to  Segedunum  on  the 
cold  eastern  beach!  On  one  side  heather, 
woods  and  ruins  where  Picts  hide,  and  on  the 
other,  a  vast  town — long  like  a  snake,  and 
wicked  like  a  snake.  Yes,  a  snake  basking 
beside  a  warm  wall! 

'My  Cohort,  I  was  told,  lay  at  Hunno, 
where  the  Great  North  Road  runs  through  the 
Wall  into  the  Province  of  Valentia.'  Par- 
nesius  laughed  scornfully.  'The  Province  of 
Valentia!  We  followed  the  road,  therefore, 
into  Hunno  town,  and  stood  astonished.  The 
place  was  a  fair — a  fair  of  peoples  from  every 
corner  of  the  Empire.  Some  were  racing 
horses :  some  sat  in  wine-shops :  some  watched 
dogs  baiting  bears,  and  many  gathered  in  a 
ditch  to  see  cocks  fight.  A  boy  not  much 
older  than  myself,  but  I  could  see  he  was 
an  Officer,  reined  up  before  me  and  asked 
what  I  wanted. 

* "  My  station,"  I  said,  and  showed  him  my 
shield.'  Pamesius  held  up  his  broad  shield 
with  its  three  X's  like  letters  on  a  beer-cask. 

'  "  Lucky  omen!  "  said  he.  "  Your  Cohort's 
the  next  tower  to  us,  but  they're  all  at  the 
cock-fight.  This  is  a  happy  place.  Come 
and  wet  the  Eagles."  He  meant  to  offer  m.e  a 
drink. 

'"When  I've  handed  over  my  men,"  I 
said.     I  felt  angry  and  ashamed. 


ON  THE  GREAT  WALL  155 

* ''  Oh,  you'll  soon  outgrow  that  sort  of  non- 
sense," he  answered.  "But  don't  let  me 
interfere  with  your  hopes.  Go  on  to  the 
Statue  of  Roma  Dea.  You  can't  miss  it. 
The  main  road  into  Valentia!  "  and  he  laughed 
and  rode  off.  I  could  see  the  Statue  not  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  away,  and  there  I  went. 
At  some  time  or  other  the  Great  North  Road 
ran  under  it  into  Valentia ;  but  the  far  end  had 
been  blocked  up  because  of  the  Picts,  and  on 
the  plaster  a  man  had  scratched,  "Finish!" 
It  was  like  marching  into  a  cave.  We 
grounded  spears  together,  my  little  thirty, 
and  it  echoed  in  the  barrel  of  the  arch,  but 
none  came.  There  was  a  door  at  one  side 
painted  with  our  number.  We  prowled  in, 
and  I  found  a  cook  asleep,  and  ordered  him 
to  give  us  food.  Then  I  climbed  to  the  top 
of  the  Wall,  and  looked  out  over  the  Pict 
country,  and  I — thought,'  said  Pamesius. 
'The  bricked-up  arch  with  "Finish!"  on  the 
plaster  was  what  shook  me,  for  I  was  not 
much  more  than  a  boy.' 

'  What  a  shame ! '    said    Una.      *  But  did 

you  feel  happy  after  you'd  had  a  good ' 

Dan  stopped  her  with  a  nudge. 

*  Happy? '  said  Pamesius.  '  When  the  men 
of  the  Cohort  I  was  to  command  came  back 
unhelmeted  from  the  cock-fight,  their  birds 
under  their  arms,  and  asked  me  who  I  was? 
No,  I  was  not  happy;  but  I  made  my  new 
Cohort  unhappy  too.  ...  I  wrote  my 
Mother  I  was  happy,  but,  oh,  my  friends' — 
he  stretched  arms  over  bare  knees — '  I  would 
not  wish  my  worst  enemy  to  suffer  as  I  suf- 


156  PUCK  OF  POOR'S  HILL 

fered  through  my  first  months  on  the  Wall. 
Remember  this  :  among  the  officers  was 
scarcely  one,  except  myself  (and  I  thought 
I  had  lost  the  favour  of  Maximus,  my  General), 
scarcely  one  who  had  not  done  something  of 
wrong  or  folly.  Either  he  had  killed  a  man, 
or  taken  money,  or  insulted  the  magistrates, 
or  blasphemed  the  Gods,  and  so  had  been  sent 
to  the  Wall  as  a  hiding-place  from  shame  or 
fear.  And  the  men  were  as  the  officers. 
Remember,  also,  that  the  Wall  was  manned 
by  every  breed  and  race  in  the  Empire.  No 
two  towers  spoke  the  same  tongue,  or  wor- 
shipped the  same  Gods.  In  one  thing  only 
we  were  all  equal.  No  matter  what  arms  we 
had  used  before  we  came  to  the  Wall,  on  the 
Wall  we  were  all  archers,  like  the  Scythians. 
The  Pict  cannot  run  away  from  the  arrow,  or 
crawl  under  it.  He  is  a  bowman  himself. 
He  knows ! ' 

'  I  suppose  you  were  fighting  Picts  all  the 
time, '  said  Dan. 

'  Picts  seldom  fight.  I  never  saw  a  fighting 
Pict  for  half  a  year.  The  tame  Picts  told 
us  they  had  all  gone  North.' 

'  What  is  a  tame  Pict  ? '  said  Dan. 

'A  Pict — there  were  many  such — who 
speaks  a  few  words  of  our  tongue,  and  slips 
across  the  Wall  to  sell  ponies  and  wolf-hounds. 
Without  a  horse  and  a  dog,  and  a  friend,  man 
would  perish.  The  Gods  gave  me  all  three, 
and  there  is  no  gift  like  friendship.  Remem- 
ber this' — Parnesius  turned  to  Dan — 'when 
you  become  a  young  man  For  your  fate  will 
turn  on  the  first  true  friend  you  make. 


ON  THE  GREAT  WALL  157 

'He  means,'  said  Puck,  grinning,  'that  if 
you  try  to  make  yourself  a  decent  chap  when 
you're  young,  you'll  make  rather  decent 
friends  when  you  grow  up.  If  you're  a  beast, 
you'll  have  beastly  friends.  Listen  to  the 
Pious  Pamesius  on  Friendship ! ' 

'I  am  not  pious,'  Pamesius  answered,  'but 
I  know  what  goodness  means ;  and  my  friend, 
though  he  was  without  hope,  was  ten  thou- 
sand times  better  than  L  Stop  laughing, 
Faun!' 

*0h  Youth  Eternal  and  All-believing,* 
cried  Puck,  as  he  rocked  on  the  branch  above. 
'Tell  them  about  your  Pertinax.' 

*  He  was  that  friend  the  Gods  sent  me — the 
boy  who  spoke  to  me  when  I  first  came. 
Little  older  than  myself,  commanding  the 
Augusta  Victoria  Cohort  on  the  tower  next  to 
us  and  the  Nimiidians.  In  virtue  he  was  far 
my  superior.' 

'Then  why  was  he  on  the  Wall?'  Una 
asked,  quickly.  'They'd  all  done  something 
bad.     You  said  so  yourself.' 

'  He  was  the  nephew,  his  Father  had  died, 
of  a  great  rich  man  in  Gaul  who  was  not  always 
kind  to  his  Mother.  When  Pertinax  grew  up, 
he  discovered  this,  and  so  his  uncle  shipped 
him  off,  by  trickery  and  force,  to  the  Wall.  We 
came  to  know  each  other  at  a  ceremony  in  our 
Temple — in  the  dark.  It  was  the  Bull  Kill- 
ing,' Pamesius  explained  to  Puck. 

'/  see,'  said  Puck,  and  turned  to  the  chil- 
dren. '  That's  something  you  wouldn't  quite 
understand.  Pamesius  means  he  met  Per- 
tinax in  church.' 


158  PUCK  OF  POOR'S  HILL 

*  Yes — in  the  Cave  we  first  met,  and  we  were 
both  raised  to  the  Degree  of  Gryphons  to- 
gether.' Pamesius  lifted  his  hand  towards 
his  neck  for  an  instant.  '  He  had  been  on  the 
Wall  two  years,  and  knew  the  Picts  well.  He 
taught  me  first  how  to  take  Heather.' 

'What's  that?'  said  Dan. 

*  Going  out  hunting  in  the  Pict  country  with 
a  tame  Pict.  You  are  quite  safe  so  long  as  you 
are  his  guest,  and  wear  a  sprig  of  heather 
where  it  can  be  seen.  If  you  went  alone  you 
would  surely  be  killed,  if  you  were  not  smoth- 
ered first  in  the  bogs.  Only  the  Picts  know 
their  way  about  those  black  and  hidden  bogs. 
Old  Alio,  the  one-eyed,  withered  little  Pict 
from  whom  we  bought  our  ponies,  was  our 
special  friend.  At  first  we  went  only  to  escape 
from  the  terrible  town,  and  to  talk  together 
about  our  homes.  Then  he  showed  us  how 
to  hunt  wolves  and  those  great  red  deer  with 
horns  like  Jewish  candlesticks.  The  Roman- 
bom  officers  rather  looked  down  on  us  for 
doing  this,  but  we  preferred  the  heather  to 
their  amusements.  Believe  me,'  Pamesius 
turned  again  to  Dan,  '  a  boy  is  safe  from  all 
things  that  really  harm  when  he  is  astride  a 
pony  or  after  a  deer.  Do  you  remember,  O 
Faun,'  he  turned  to  Puck,  'the  little  altar  I 
built  to  the  Sylvan  Pan  by  the  pine-forest 
beyond  the  brook  ? ' 

'  Which  ?  The  stone  one  with  the  line  from 
Xenophon  ? '   said  Puck,  in  quite  a  new  voice. 

'No.  What  do  /  know  of  Xenophon? 
That  was  Pertinax — after  he  had  shot  his 
first  mountain-hare  with  an  arrow — by  chance! 


ON  THE  GREAT  WALL  159 

Mine  I  made  of  round  pebbles  in  memory  of 
my  first  bear.  It  took  me  one  happy  day  to 
build.'     Pamesius  faced  the  children  quickly. 

*  And  that  was  how  we  lived  on  the  Wall  for 
two  years — a  little  scuffling  with  the  Picts, 
and  a  great  deal  of  hunting  with  old  Alio  in 
the  Pict  country.  He  called  us  his  children 
sometimes,  and  we  were  fond  of  him  and  his 
barbarians,  though  we  never  let  them  paint 
us  Pict  fashion.  The  marks  endure  till  you 
die.' 

'How's  it  done?'  said  Dan.  'Anything 
like  tattooing?' 

*  They  prick  the  skin  till  the  blood  runs,  and 
rub  in  coloured  juices.  Alio  was  painted  blue, 
green,  and  red  from  his  forehead  to  his  ankles. 
He  said  it  was  part  of  his  religion.  He  told  us 
about  his  religion  (Pertinax  was  always  in- 
terested in  such  things) ,  and  as  we  came  to 
know  him  well,  he  told  us  what  was  happening 
in  Britain  behind  the  Wall.  Many  things 
took  place  behind  us  in  those  days.  And,  by 
the  Light  of  the  Sun,'  said  Pamesius,  earn- 
estly, '  there  was  not  much  that  those  little 
people  did  not  know!  He  told  me  when 
Maximus  crossed  over  to  Gaul,  after  he  had 
made  himself  Emperor  of  Britain,  and  what 
troops  and  emigrants  he  had  taken  with  him. 
We  did  not  get  the  news  on  the  Wall  till 
fifteen  days  later.  He  told  me  what  troops 
Maximus  was  taking  out  of  Britain  every 
month  to  help  him  to  conquer  Gaul ;  and  I 
always  found  the  numbers  as  he  said.  Won- 
derful !     And  I  tell  another  strange  thing ! ' 

He  jointed  his  hands  across  his  knees,  and 


i6o  PUCK  OF  POOR'S  HILL 

leaned  his  head  on  the  curve  of  the  shield 
behind  him. 

'Late  in  the  summer,  when  the  first  frosts 
begin  and  the  Picts  kill  their  bees,  we  three 
rode  out  after  wolf  with  some  new  hounds. 
Rutilianus,  our  General,  had  given  us  ten 
days'  leave,  and  w^e  had  pushed  beyond  the 
Second  Wall — beyond  the  Province  of  Valen- 
tia — into  the  higher  hills,  where  there  are  not 
even  any  of  Rome's  old  ruins.  We  killed  a 
she-wolf  before  noon,  and  while  Alio  was 
skinning  her  he  looked  up  and  said  to  me, 
"  When  you  are  Captain  of  the  Wall,  my  child, 
you  won't  be  able  to  do  this  any  more! " 

*  I  might  as  well  have  been  made  Prefect  of 
Lower  Gaul,  so  I  laughed  and  said,  "  Wait  till 
I  am  Captain."  "  No  don't,  wait,"  said  Alio. 
"  Take  my  advice  and  go  home — both  of  you." 
"We  have  no  homes,"  said  Pertinax.  "You 
know  that  as  well  as  we  do.  We're  finished 
men — thumbs  down  against  both  of  us.  Only 
men  without  hope  would  risk  their  necks  on 
your  ponies."  The  old  man  laughed  one  of 
those  short  Pict  laughs — like  a  fox  barking 
on  a  frosty  night.  "  Pm  fond  of  you  two," 
he  said.  "Besides,  Fve  taught  you  what 
little  you  know  about  hunting.  Take  my 
advice  and  go  home." 

'"We  can't,"  I  said.  "  Pm  out  of  favour 
with  my  General,  for  one  thing;  and  for  an- 
other, Pertinax  has  an  uncle." 

'  "  I  don't  know  about  his  uncle,"  said  Alio, 
"  but  the  trouble  with  you,  Pamesius,  is  that 
your  General  thinks  well  of  you." 

'"Roma  Dea!"    said  Pertinax,  sitting  up 


ON  THE  GREAT  WALL  i6i 

"  What  can  you  guess  what  Maximus  thinks, 
you  old  horse-coper?" 

'Just  then  (you  know  how  near  the  brutes 
creep  when  one  is  eating?)  a  great  dog- wolf 
jumped  out  behind  us,  and  away  our  rested 
hounds  tore  after  him,  with  us  at  their  tails. 
He  ran  us  far  out  of  any  country  we'd  ever 
heard  of,  straight  as  an  arrow  till  sunset, 
towards  the  sunset.  We  came  at  last  to  long 
capes  stretching  into  winding  waters,  and  on 
a  grey  beach  below  us  we  saw  ships  drawn  up. 
Forty-seven  we  counted — not  Roman  galleys 
but  the  raven- winged  ships  from  the  North 
where  Rome  does  not  rule.  Men  moved  in 
the  ships,  and  the  sun  flashed  on  their  helmets 
— winged  helmets  of  the  red-haired  men  from 
the  North  where  Rome  does  not  rule.  We 
watched,  and  we  counted,  and  we  wondered; 
for  though  we  had  heard  rumours  concerning 
these  Winged  Hats,  as  the  Picts  called  them, 
never  before  had  we  looked  upon  them. 

"'Come  away!  Come  away!"  said  Alio. 
"My  Heather  won't  protect  you  here.  We 
shall  all  be  killed!"  His  legs  trembled  like 
his  voice.  Back  we  went — back  across  the 
heather  under  the  moon,  till  it  was  nearly 
morning,  and  our  poor  beasts  stumbled  on 
some  ruins. 

'When  we  woke,  very  stiff  and  cold.  Alio 
was  mixing  the  meal  and  water.  One  does 
not  light  fires  in  the  Pict  country  except  near 
a  village.  The  little  men  are  always  signal- 
ling to  each  other  with  smokes,  and  a  strange 
smoke  brings  them  out  buzzing  like  bees. 
They  can  sting,  too! 


i62         PUCK  OF  POOR'S  HILL 

'"What  we  saw  last  night  was  a  trading- 
station,"  said  Alio.  "  Nothing  but  a  trading- 
station." 

"'I  do  not  like  lies  on  an  empty  stomach," 
said  Pertinax.  "  I  suppose"  (he  had  eyes  like 
an  eagle's),  "I  suppose  that  is  a  trading-station 
also?"  He  pointed  to  a  smoke  far  off  on  a 
hill- top,  ascending  in  what  we  call  the  Pict's 
Call :— Puff— double-puff :  double-puff— puff ! 
They  make  it  by  raising  and  dropping  a  wet 
hide  on  a  fire. 

'"No,"  said  Alio,  pushing  the  platter  back 
into  the  bag.  "That  is  for  you  and  me. 
Your  fate  is  fixed.     Come." 

'  We  came.  When  one  takes  Heather,  one 
must  obey  one's  Pict— but  that  wretched 
smoke  was  twenty  miles  distant,  well  over  on 
the  east  coast,  and  the  day  was  as  hot  as  a  bath. 

'"Whatever  happens,"  said  Alio,  while  our 
ponies  grunted  along,  "  I  want  you  to  remem- 
ber me." 

'  "  I  shall  not  forget,"  said  Pertinax.  "  You 
have  cheated  me  out  of  my  breakfast." 

' "  What  is  a  handful  of  crushed  oats  to  a 
Roman?"  he  said.  Then  he  laughed  his 
laugh  that  was  not  a  laugh.  "  What  would 
you  do  if  you  were  a  handful  of  oats  being 
crushed  between  the  upper  and  lower  stones 
of  a  mill?" 

'  "  I'm  Pertinax,  not  a  riddle-guesser,"  said 
Pert  max 

'"You're  a  fool,"  said  Alio.  "Your  Gods 
and  my  Gods  are  threatened  by  strange  Gods, 
and  all  you  can  do  is  to  laugh." 

'  "  Threatened  men  live  long,"  I  said. 


ON  THE  GREAT  WALL  163 

"*I  pray  the  Gods  that  may  be  true,"  he 
said.     "  But  I  ask  you  again  not  to  forget  me." 

'We  climbed  the  last  hot  hill  and  looked 
out  on  the  eastern  sea,  three  or  four  miles  off. 
There  was  a  small  sailing-galley  of  the  North 
Gaul  pattern  at  anchor,  her  landing-plank 
down  and  her  sail  half  up;  and  below  us, 
alone  in  a  hollow,  holding  his  pony,  sat  Maxi- 
mus.  Emperor  of  Britain!  He  was  dressed 
like  a  hunter,  and  he  leaned  on  his  little  stick ; 
but  I  knew  that  back  as  far  as  I  could  see  it, 
and  I  told  Pertinax. 

'"You're  madder  than  Alio!"  he  said. 
"  It  must  be  the  sun! " 

*  Maximus  never  stirred  till  we  stood  before 
him.  Then  he  looked  me  up  and  down,  and 
said:  "Hungry  again?  It  seems  to  be  my 
destiny  to  feed  you  whenever  we  meet.  I 
have  food  here.     Alio  shall  cook  it." 

'"No,"  said  Alio.  "A  Prince  in  his  own 
land  does  not  wait  on  wandering  Emperors. 
I  feed  my  two  children  without  asking  your 
leave."     He   began  to   blow   up   the   ashes. 

'"I  was  wrong,"  said  Pertinax.  "We  are 
all  mad.  Speak  up,  O  Madman  called  Em- 
peror!" 

'Maximus  smiled  his  terrible  tight-lipped 
smile,  but  two  years  on  the  Wall  do  not  make 
a  man  afraid  of  mere  looks.  So  I  was  not 
afraid. 

' "  I  meant  you,  Pamesius,  to  live  and  die 
an  Officer  of  the  Wall,"  said  Maximus.  "  But 
it  seems  from  these,"  he  fumbled  in  his  breast, 
"  you  can  think  as  well  as  draw."  He  pulled 
out  a  roll  of  letters  I  had  written  to  my 


i64  PUCK  OF  POOK'S  HILL 

people,  full  of  drawings  of  Picts,  and  bears, 
and  men  I  had  met  on  the  Wall.  Mother  and 
my  sister  always  liked  my  pictures. 

*  He  handed  me  one  that  I  had  called  "  Max- 
imus's  Soldiers."  It  showed  a  row  of  fat 
wine-skins,  and  our  old  Doctor  of  the  Hunno 
hospital  snuffing  at  them.  Each  time  that 
Maximus  had  taken  troops  out  of  Britain  to 
help  him  to  conquer  Gaul,  he  used  to  send 
the  garrisons  more  wine — to  keep  them  quiet, 
I  suppose.  On  the  Wall,  we  always  called  a 
wine-skin  a  "Maximus."  Oh,  yes;  and  I 
had  drawn  them  in  Imperial  helmets! 

'"Not  long  since,"  he  went  on,  "men's 
names  were  sent  up  to  Cassar  for  smaller 
jokes  than  this." 

'"True,  Caesar,"  said  Pertinax;  "but  you 
forget  that  was  before  I,  your  friend's  friend, 
became  such  a  good  spear-thrower." 

*  He  did  not  actually  point  his  hunting  spear 
at  Maximus,  but  balanced  it  on  his  palm — so! 

*  "  I  was  speaking  of  time  past,"  said  Maxi- 
mus, never  fluttering  an  eyelid.  "  Nowadays 
one  is  only  too  pleased  to  find  boys  who  can 
think  for  themselves,  and  their  friends."  He 
nodded  at  Pertinax.  "Your  Father  lent  me 
the  letters,  Pamesius,  so  you  run  no  risk 
from  me." 

'"None  whatever,"  said  Pertinax,  and 
rubbed  the  spear-point  on  his  sleeve. 

'  "  I  have  been  forced  to  reduce  the  garrisons 
in  Britain,  because  I  need  troops  in  Gaul. 
Now  I  come  to  take  troops  from  the  Wall 
itself,"  said  he. 

'"I  wish  you  joy  of  us,"   said  Pertinax. 


ON  THE  GREAT  WALL  165 

"We're  the  last  sweepings  of  the  Empire — 
the  men  without  hope.  Myself,  I'd  sooner 
trust  condemned  criminals." 

"'You  think  so?"  he  said,  quite  seriously. 
"But  it  will  only  be  till  I  win  Gaul.  One 
must  always  risk  one's  life,  or  one's  soul,  or 
one's  peace — or  some  little  thing." 

'  Alio  passed  round  the  fire  with  the  sizzling 
deer's  meat.     He  served  us  two  first. 

*"Ah!"  said  Maximus,  waiting  his  turn. 
"  I  perceive  you  are  in  your  own  country. 
Well,  you  deserve  it.  They  tell  me  you  have 
quite  a  following  among  the  Picts,  Pamesius." 

*"I  have  hunted  with  them,"  I  said. 
"Maybe  I  have  a  few  friends  among  the 
Heather." 

* "  He  is  the  only  armoured  man  of  you  all 
who  understands  us,"  said  Alio,  and  he  began 
a  long  speech  about  our  virtues,  and  how  we 
had  saved  one  of  his  grandchildren  from  a 
wolf  the  year  before.' 

'  Had  you  ? '  said  Una. 

'Yes;  but  that  was  neither  here  nor  there. 
The  little  green  man  orated  like  a — like  Cicero. 
He  made  us  out  to  be  magnificent  fellows. 
Maximus  never  took  his  eyes  off  our  faces. 

'"Enough,"  he  said.  "I  have  heard  Alio 
on  you.     I  wish  to  hear  you  on  the  Picts. ' ' 

'  I  told  him  as  much  as  I  knew,  and  Pertinax 
helped  me  out.  There  is  never  harm  in  a 
Pict  if  you  but  take  the  trouble  to  find  out 
what  he  wants.  Their  real  grievance  against 
us  came  from  our  burning  their  heather.  The 
whole  garrison  of  the  Wall  moved  out  twice  a 
year,   and  solemnly  burned  the  heather  for 


1 66  PUCK  OF  POOR'S  HILL 

ten  miles  North.  Rutilianus,  our  General, 
called  it  clearing  the  country.  The  Picts,  of 
course,  scampered  away,  and  all  we  did  was 
to  destroy  their  bee-bloom  in  the  summer,  and 
ruin  their  sheep-food  in  the  spring. 

*  "True,  quite  true,"  said  Alio.  "  How  can 
we  make  our  holy  heather-wine,  if  you  bum 
our  bee-pasture?" 

'We  talked  long,  Maximus  asking  keen 
questions  that  showed  he  knew  much  and 
had  thought  more  about  the  Picts.  He  said 
presently  to  me:  "If  I  gave  you  the  old 
Province  of  Valentia  to  govern,  could  you 
keep  the  Picts  contented  till  I  won  Gaul? 
Stand  away,  so  that  you  do  not  see  Allo's 
face;   and  speak  your  own  thoughts. 

'"No,"  I  said.  "You  cannot  re-make  that 
Province.     The  Picts  have  been  free  too  long. ' ' 

' "  Leave  them  their  village  councils,  and 
let  them  furnish  their  own  soldiers,"  he  said. 
"You,  I  am  sure,  would  hold  the  reins  very 
lightly." 

'"Even  then,  no,"  I  said.  "At  least  not 
now.  They  have  been  too  oppressed  by  us 
to  trust  anything  with  a  Roman  name  for 
years  and  years." 

'  I  heard  old  Alio  behind  me  mutter:  "  Good 
child!" 

'"Then  what  do  you  recommend,"  said 
Maximus,  "  to  keep  the  North  quiet  till  I  win 
Gaul?" 

'"Leave  the  Picts  alone,"  I  said.  "Stop 
the  heather-burning  at  once,  and — they  are 
improvident  little  animals — send  them  a  ship- 
load or  two  of  com  now  and  then." 


ON  THE  GREAT  WALL  167 

'  "  Their  own  men  must  distribute  it — not 
some  cheating  Greek  accountant,"  said  Per- 
tinax. 

' "  Yes,  and  allow  them  to  come  to  our 
hospitals  when  they  are  sick,"  I  said. 

'"Surely  they  would  die  first,"  said  Maxi- 
mus. 

"'Not  if  Pamesius  brought  them  in,"  said 
Alio.  "  I  could  show  you  twenty  wolf-bitten, 
bear-clawed  Picts  within  twenty  miles  of  here. 
But  Parnesius  must  stay  with  them  in  Hos- 
pital, else  they  would  go  mad  with  fear." 

'  "  /  see,"  said  Maximus.  "  Like  everything 
else  in  the  world,  it  is  one  man's  work.  You, 
I  think,  are  that  one  man." 

' "  Pertinax  and  I  are  one,"  I  said. 

' "  As  you  please,  so  long  as  you  work. 
Now,  Alio,  you  know  that  I  mean  your  people 
no  harm.  Leave  us  to  talk  together,"  said 
Maximus. 

'"No  need!"  said  Alio.  "I  am  the  corn 
between  the  upper  and  lower  millstones.  I 
raust  know  what  the  lower  millstone  means 
to  do.  These  boys  have  spoken  the  truth  as 
far  as  they  know  it.  I,  a  Prince,  will  tell  you 
the  rest.  I  am  troubled  about  the  Men  of 
the  North."  He  squatted  like  a  hare  in  the 
heather,  and  looked  over  his  shoulder. 

'"I  also,"  said  Maximus,  "or  I  should  not 
be  here. ' ' 

'"Listen,"  said  Alio.  "Long  and  long 
ago  the  Winged  Hats" — he  meant  the  North- 
men— "  came  to  our  beaches  and  said,  '  Rome 
falls!  Push  her  down!'  We  fought  you. 
You    sent    men.     We    were    beaten.     After 


i68  PUCK  OF  POOR'S  HILL 

that  we  said  to  the  Winged  Hats,  'You  are 
liars!  Make  our  men  aHve  that  Rome  killed, 
and  we  will  believe  you.'  They  went  away 
ashamed.  Now  they  come  back  bold,  and 
they  tell  the  old  tale,  which  we  begin  to  be- 
lieve— that  Rome  falls!" 

'  "  Give  me  three  years '  peace  on  the  Wall," 
cried  Maximus,  "  and  I  will  show  you  and  all 
the  ravens  how  they  lie!" 

'  "Ah,  I  wish  it  too!  I  wish  to  save  what 
is  left  of  the  com  from  the  millstones.  But 
you  shoot  us  Picts  when  we  come  to  borrow 
a  little  iron  from  the  Iron  Ditch;  you  bum 
our  heather,  which  is  all  our  crop ;  you  trouble 
us  with  your  great  catapults.  Then  you 
hide  behind  the  Wall,  and  scorch  us  with 
Greek  fire.  How  can  I  keep  my  young  men 
from  listening  to  the  Winged  Hats — in  winter 
especially,  when  we  are  hungry?  My  young 
men  will  say,  '  Rome  can  neither  fight  nor 
rule.  She  is  taking  her  men  out  of  Britain. 
The  Winged  Hats  will  help  us  to  push  down 
the  Wall.  Let  us  show  them  the  secret  roads 
across  the  bogs.'  Do  /  want  that?  No!" 
He  spat  like  an  adder.  "/  would  keep  the 
secrets  of  my  people  though  I  were  burned 
alive.  My  two  children  here  have  spoken 
truth.  Leave  us  Picts  alone.  Comfort  us, 
and  cherish  us,  and  feed  us  from  far  off — 
with  the  hand  behind  your  back.  Pamesius 
understands  us.  Let  htm  have  rule  on  the 
Wall,  and  I  will  hold  my  young  men  quiet 
for" — he  ticked  it  off  on  his  fingers — "one 
year  easily:  the  next  year  not  so  easily:  the 
third  year,  perhaps!     See,  I  give  you  three 


ON  THE  GREAT  WALL  169 

years.  If  then  you  do  not  show  us  that  Rome 
is  strong  in  men  and  terrible  in  arms,  the 
Winged  Hats,  I  tell  you,  will  sweep  down  the 
Wall  from  either  sea  till  they  meet  in  the 
middle,  and  you  will  go.  /  shall  not  grieve 
over  that,  but  well  I  know  tribe  never  helps 
tribe  except  for  one  price.  We  Picts  will  go 
too.  The  Winged  Hats  will  grind  us  to  this!  " 
He  tossed  a  handful  of  dust  in  the  air. 

'"Oh,  Roma  Dea!"  said  Maximus,  half 
aloud.  "  It  is  always  one  man's  work — 
always   and   everywhere!" 

'"And  one  man's  life,"  said  Alio.  "You 
are  Emperor,  but  not  a  God.     You  may  die." 

'"I  have  thought  of  that,  too,"  said  he. 
"Very  good.  If  this  wind  holds,  I  shall  be 
at  the  East  end  of  the  Wall  by  morning.  To- 
morrow, then,  I  shall  see  you  two  when  I 
inspect;  and  I  will  make  you  Captains  of 
the  Wall  for  this  work." 

'"One  instant,  Caesar,"  said  Pertinax. 
"  All  men  have  their  price.  I  am  not  bought 
yet." 

'"Do  you  also  begin  to  bargain  so  early?" 
said  Maximus.     "Well?" 

'  "  Give  me  justice  against  my  uncle  Icenus, 
the  Duumvir  of  Divio  in  Gaul,"  he  said. 

'"Only  a  life?  I  thought  it  would  be 
money  or  an  office.  Certainly  you  shall 
have  him.  Write  his  name  on  these  tablets — 
on  the  red  side;  the  other  is  for  the  living!" 
And  Maximus  held  out  his  tablets. 

'  "  He  is  of  no  use  to  me  dead,"  said  Pertinax. 
"  My  mother  is  a  widow.  I  am  far  off.  I  am 
not  sure  he  pays  her  all  her  dowry." 


I70  PUCK  OF  POOR'S  HILL 

*  "  No  matter.  My  arm  is  reasonably  long. 
We  will  look  through  your  uncle's  accounts  in 
due  time.  Now,  farewell  till  to-morrow,  O 
Captains  of  the  Wall!" 

'  We  saw  him  grow  small  across  the  heather 
as  he  walked  to  the  galley.  There  were  Picts, 
scores,  each  side  of  him,  hidden  behind  stones. 
He  never  looked  left  or  right.  He  sailed 
away  Southerly,  full  spread  before  the  evening 
breeze,  and  when  we  had  watched  him  out 
to  sea,  we  were  silent.  We  understood  Earth 
bred  few  men  like  to  this  man. 

*  Presently  Alio  brought  the  ponies  and 
held  them  for  us  to  mount — a  thing  he  had 
never  done  before. 

'"Wait  awhile,"  said  Pertinax,  and  he 
made  a  little  altar  of  cut  turf,  and  strewed 
heather-bloom  atop,  and  laid  upon  it  a  letter 
from  a  girl  in  Gaul. 

'"What  do  you  do,  O  my  friend?"  I 
said. 

'"I  sacrifice  to  my  dead  youth,"  he  an- 
swered, and,  when  the  flames  had  consumed 
the  letter,  he  ground  them  out  with  his  heel. 
Then  we  rode  back  to  that  Wall  of  which  we 
were  to  be  Captains.' 

Pamesius  stopped.  The  children  sat  still, 
not  even  asking  if  that  were  all  the  tale. 
Puck  beckoned,  and  pointed  the  way  out  of 
the  wood.  "Sorry,'  he  whispered,  'but  you 
must  go  now.' 

'  We  haven  't  made  him  angry,  have  we  ? ' 
said  Una.  '  He  looks  so  far  off,  and — and — 
thinky.' 

'  Bless  your  heart,  no.     Wait  till  to-morrow. 


ON  THE  GREAT  WALL  171 

It  won't  be  long.     Remember,  you've  been 
playing  "  Lays  of  Ancient  Rome.'' ' 

And  as  soon  as  they  had  scrambled  through 
their  gap,  where  Oak,  Ash  and  Thorn  grow, 
that  was  all  they  remembered. 


A  SONG  TO  MITHRAS 

Mithras,   God  of  the  Morning,   our  trumpets 

waken  the  Wall! 
'  Rome  is  above  the  Nations,  hut  Thou  art  over 

all!' 
Now  as  the  names  are  answered  and  the  guards 

are  marched  away, 
Mithras,   also  a  soldier,   give  us  strength  for 

the  day ! 

Mithras,    God    of    the    Noontide,    the    heather 

swims  in  the  heat. 
Our  helmets  scorch  our  foreheads;    our  sandals 

hum  our  feet! 
Now  in  the  ungirt  hour;  now  ere  we  hlink  and 

drowse, 
Mithras,  also  a  soldier,  keep  us  true  to  our  vows  ! 

Mithras,  God  of  the  Sunset,  low  on  the  Western 

main. 
Thou  descending  immortal,    immortal   to   rise 

again  ! 
Now  when  the  watch  is  ended,  now  when  the 

wine  is  drawn, 
Mithras,  also  a  soldier,  keep  us  pure  till  the 

dawn  ! 

Mithras,  God  of  the  Midnight,  here  where  the 

great  hull  lies. 
Look   on  thy  children  in  darkness.     Oh  take 

our  sacrifice! 
Many  roads  Thou  hast  fashioned:  all  of  them 

lead  to  the  Light, 
Mithras,  also  a  soldier,  teach  us  to  die  aright  I 

173 


THE  WINGED  HATS 


THE  WINGED  HATS 


THE  next  day  happened  to  be  what  they 
called  a  Wild  Afternoon.  Father  and 
Mother  went  out  to  pay  calls;  Miss  Blake 
went  for  a  ride  on  her  bicycle,  and  they  were 
left  all  alone  till  eight  o'clock. 

When  they  had  seen  their  dear  parents  and 
their  dear  preceptress  politely  off  the  premises 
they  got  a  cabbage-leaf  full  of  raspberries 
from  the  gardener,  and  a  Wild  Tea  from  Ellen. 
They  ate  the  raspberries  to  prevent  their 
squashing,  and  they  meant  to  divide  the 
cabbage-leaf  with  Three  Cows  down  at  the 
Theatre,  but  they  came  across  a  dead  hedge- 
hog which  they  simply  had  to  bury,  and  the 
le^  was  too  useful  to  waste. 

Then  they  went  on  to  the  Forge  and  found 
old  Hobden  the  hedger  at  home  with  his  son 
the  Bee  Boy  who  is  not  quite  right  in  his  head, 
but  who  can  pick  up  swarms  of  bees  in  his 
naked  hands;  and  the  Bee  Boy  told  them 
the  rh)niie  about  the  slow- worm: — 

*  If  I  had  eyes  as  I  could  see, 
No  mortal  man  would  trouble  me.' 

They  all  had  tea  together  by  the  hives,  and 
Hobden  said  the  loaf-cake  which  Ellen  had 
given  them  was  almost  as  good  as  what  his 
wife  used  to  make,  and  he  showed  them  how 

177 


178  PUCK  OF  POOK'S  HILL 

to  set  a  wire  at  the  right  height  for  hares. 
They  knew  about  rabbits  already. 

Then  they  dimbed  up  Long  Ditch  into  the 
lower  end  of  Far  Wood.  This  is  sadder  and 
darker  than  the  'Volaterrae'  end  because  of 
an  old  marlpit  full  of  black  water,  where 
weepy,  hairy  moss  hangs  round  the  stumps 
of  the  willows  and  alders.  But  the  birds 
come  to  perch  on  the  dead  branches,  and 
Hobden  says  that  the  bitter  willow-water  is 
a  sort  of  medicine  for  sick  animals. 

They  sat  down  on  a  felled  oak- trunk  in 
the  shadows  of  the  beech  undergrowth,  and 
were  looping  the  wires  Hobden  had  given 
them,  when  they  saw  Parnesius. 

'  How  quietly  you  came ! '  said  Una,  moving 
up  to  make  room.     'Where's  Puck?' 

*  The  Faun  and  I  have  disputed  whether  it 
is  better  that  I  should  tell  you  all  my  tale,  or 
leave  it  untold,'  he  replied. 

'  I  only  said  that  if  he  told  it  as  it  happened 
you  wouldn't  understand  it,'  said  Puck, 
jumping  up  like  a  squirrel  from  behind  the 
log. 

*  I  don't  understand  all  of  it, '  said  Una, 
'but  I  like  hearing  about  the  little  Picts.' 

'What  I  can't  understand,'  said  Dan,  'is 
how  Maximus  knew  all  about  the  Picts  when 
he  was  over  in  Gaul.' 

'  He  who  makes  himself  Emperor  anywhere 
must  know  everything,  everywhere,'  said 
Parnesius.  '  We  had  this  much  from  Maxi- 
mus' mouth  after  the  Games.' 

'Games?     What  games?'  said  Dan. 

Parnesius    stretched    his    arm    out    stiffly, 


THE  WINGED  HATS  179 

thumb  pointed  to  the  ground.  'Gladiators! 
That  sort  of  game,'  he  said.  'There  were 
two  days'  Games  in  his  honour  when  he  landed 
all  unexpected  at  Segedunum  on  the  East 
end  of  the  Wall.  Yes,  the  day  after  we  had 
met  him  we  held  two  days'  games;  but  I  think 
the  greatest  risk  was  run,  not  by  the  poor 
wretches  on  the  sand,  but  by  Maximus.  In 
the  old  days  the  Legions  kept  silence  before 
their  Emperor.  So  did  not  we!  You  could 
hear  the  solid  roar  run  West  along  the  Wall  as 
his  chair  was  carried  rocking  through  the 
crowds.  The  garrison  beat  round  him — 
clamouring,  clowning,  asking  for  pay,  for 
change  of  quarters,  for  an3rthing  that  came 
into  their  wild  heads.  That  chair  was  like 
a  little  boat  among  waves,  dipping  and  falling, 
but  always  rising  again  after  one  had  shut 
the  eyes.'     Pamesius  shivered. 

'  Were  they  angry  with  him? '  said  Dan. 

'  No  more  angry  than  wolves  in  a  cage  when 
their  trainer  walks  among  them.  If  he  had 
turned  his  back  an  instant,  or  for  an  instant 
had  ceased  to  hold  their  eyes,  there  would 
have  been  another  Emperor  made  on  the 
Wall  that  hour.     Was  it  not  so,  Faun?' 

'So  it  was.  So  it  always  will  be,'  said 
Puck. 

'Late  in  the  evening  his  messenger  came 
for  us,  and  we  followed  to  the  Temple  of 
Victory,  where  he  lodged  with  Rutilianus, 
the  General  of  the  Wall.  I  had  hardly  seen 
the  General  before,  but  he  always  gave  me 
leave  when  I  wished  to  take  Heather.  He 
was  a  great  glutton,  and  kept  five  Asian  cooks. 


i8o  PUCK  OF  POOK'S  HILL 

and  he  came  of  a  family  that  beHeved  in 
oracles.  We  could  smell  his  good  dinner 
when  we  entered,  but  the  tables  were  empty. 
He  lay  snorting  on  a  couch.  Maximus  sat 
apart  among  long  rolls  of  accounts.  Then 
the  doors  were  shut. 

'"These  are  your  men,"  said  Maximus  to 
the  General,  who  propped  his  eye-comers 
open  with  his  gouty  fingers,  and  stared  at  us 
like  a  fish. 

*"I  shall  know  them  again,  Caesar,"  said 
Rutilianus. 

*  "  Very  good,"  said  Maximus.  "  Now  hear  ! 
You  are  not  to  move  man  or  shield  on  the 
Wall  except  as  these  boys  shall  tell  you.  You 
will  do  nothing,  except  eat,  without  their 
permission.  They  are  the  head  and  arms. 
You  are  the  belly! " 

'  "As  Caesar  pleases,"  the  old  man  grunted. 
"  If  my  pay  and  profits  are  not  cut,  you  may 
make  my  Ancestors'  Oracle  my  master. 
Rome  has  been!  Rome  has  been!"  Then  he 
turned  on  his  side  to  sleep. 

'"He  has  it,"  said  Maximus.  "We  will 
get  to  what  /  need." 

'  He  unrolled  full  copies  of  the  number  of 
men  and  supplies  on  the  Wall — down  to  the 
sick  that  very  day  in  Hunno  Hospital.  Oh, 
but  I  groaned  when  his  pen  marked  off  de- 
tachment after  detachment  of  our  best — of 
our  least  worthless  men  !  He  took  two  tow- 
ers of  our  Scythians,  two  of  our  North  Brit- 
ish auxiliaries,  two  Numidian  cohorts,  the 
Dacians  all,  and  half  the  Belgians.  It  was 
like  an  eagle  pecking  a  carcass. 


THE  WINGED  HATS  i8i 

* "  And  now,  how  many  catapults  have 
you?"  He  turned  up  a  new  list,  but  Per- 
tinax  laid  his  open  hand  there. 

'"No,  Caesar,"  said  he.  "Do  not  tempt 
the  Gods  too  far.  Take  men,  or  engines,  but 
not  both;  else  we  refuse.  "  ' 

'  Engines  ? '    said  Una. 

'  The  catapults  of  the  Wall — huge  things 
forty  feet  high  to  the  head — firing  nets  of 
raw  stone  or  forged  bolts.  Nothing  can 
stand  against  them.  He  left  us  our  catapults 
at  last,  but  he  took  a  Caesar's  half  of  our  men 
without  pity.  We  were  a  shell  when  he  rolled 
up  the  lists ! 

'"Hail,  Caesai'!  We,  about  to  die,  salute 
you  ! "  said  Pertinax,  laughing.  "  If  any 
enemy  even  leans  against  the  Wall  now,  it 
will  tumble." 

'"Give  me  the  three  years  Alio  spoke  of," 
he  answered,  "  and  you  shall  have  twenty 
thousand  men  of  your  own  choosing  up  here. 
But  now  it  is  a  gamble — a  game  played 
against  the  Gods,  and  the  stakes  are  Britain, 
Gaul,  and  perhaps,  Rome.  You  play  on  my 
side?" 

'"We  will  play,  Caesar,"  I  said  for  I  had 
never  met  a  man  like  this  man. 

'"Good.  To-morrow,"  said  he,  "I  pro- 
claim you  Captains  of  the  Wall  before  the 
troops." 

'  So  we  went  into  the  moonlight,  where  they 
were  cleaning  the  ground  after  the  Games. 
We  saw  great  Roma  Dea  atop  of  the  Wall, 
the  frost  on  her  helmet,  and  her  spear  pointed 
towards  the  North  Star.     We  saw  the  twinkle 


1 83  PUCK  OF  POOR'S  HILL 

of  night-fires  all  along  the  guard- towers,  and 
the  line  of  the  black  catapults  growing  smaller 
and  smaller  in  the  distance.  All  these  things 
we  knew  till  we  were  weary;  but  that  night 
they  seemed  very  strange  to  us,  because  the 
next  day  we  knew  we  were  to  be  their  masters. 

*  The  men  took  the  news  well ;  but  when 
Maximus  went  away  with  half  our  strength, 
and  we  had  to  spread  ourselves  into  the 
emptied  towers,  and  the  townspeople  com- 
plained that  trade  would  be  ruined,  and  the 
Autumn  gales  blew — it  was  dark  days  for  us 
two.  Here  Pertinax  was  more  than  my 
right  hand.  Being  born  and  bred  among  the 
great  country-houses  in  Gaul,  he  knew  the 
proper  words  to  address  to  all — from  Roman- 
born  Centurions  to  those  dogs  of  the  Third — 
the  Libyans.  And  he  spoke  to  each  as  though 
that  man  were  as  high-minded  as  himself. 
Now  /  saw  so  strongly  what  things  were 
needed  to  be  done,  that  I  forgot  things  are 
only  accomplished  by  means  of  men.  That 
was  a  mistake. 

'  I  feared  nothing  from  the  Picts,  at  least 
for  that  year,  but  Alio  warned  me  that  the 
Winged  Hats  would  soon  come  in  from  the 
sea  at  each  end  of  the  Wall  to  prove  to  the 
Picts  how  weak  we  were.  So  I  made  ready 
in  haste,  and  none  too  soon.  I  shifted  our 
best  men  to  the  ends  of  the  Wall,  and  set  up 
screened  catapults  by  the  beach.  The  Winged 
Hats  would  drive  in  before  the  snow-squalls — 
ten  or  twenty  boats  at  a  time — on  Segedunum 
or  Ituna,  according  as  the  wind  blew. 

'  Now  a  ship  coming  in  to  land  men  must 


THE  WINGED  HATS  183 

furl  her  sail.  If  you  wait  till  you  see  her  men 
gather  up  the  sail's  foot,  your  catapults  can 
jerk  a  net  of  loose  stones  (bolts  only  cut 
through  the  cloth)  into  the  bag  of  it.  Then 
she  turns  over,  and  the  sea  makes  everything 
clean  again.  A  few  men  may  come  ashore, 
but  very  few.  .  .  .It  was  not  hard  work, 
except  the  waiting  on  the  beach  in  blowing 
sand  and  snow.  And  that  was  how  we  dealt 
with  the  Winged  Hats  that  winter. 

'  Early  in  the  Spring,  when  the  East  winds 
blow  like  skinning-knives,  they  gathered  again 
off  the  East  end  with  many  ships.  Alio  told 
me  they  would  never  rest  till  they  had  taken 
a  tower  in  open  fight.  Certainly  they  fought 
in  the  open.  We  dealt  with  them  thoroughly 
through  a  long  day:  and  when  all  was  finished, 
one  man  dived  clear  of  the  wreckage  of  his 
ship,  and  swam  towards  shore.  I  waited, 
and  a  wave  tumbled  him  at  my  feet. 

'  As  I  stooped,  I  saw  he  wore  such  a  medal 
as  I  wear.'  Pamesius  raised  his  hand  to  his 
neck.  'Therefore,  when  he  could  speak,  I 
addressed  him  a  certain  Question  which  can 
only  be  answered  in  a  certain  manner.  He 
answered  with  the  necessary  Word — the  Word 
that  belongs  to  the  Degree  of  Gryphons  in  the 
science  of  Mithras  my  God.  I  put  my  shield 
over  him  till  he  could  stand  up.  You  see  I 
am  not  short,  but  he  was  a  head  taller  than  I. 
He  said:  "What  now?"  I  said:  "At  your 
pleasure,  my  brother,  to  stay  or  go." 

'  He  looked  out  across  the  surf.  There  re- 
mained one  ship  unhurt,  beyond  range  of  our 
catapults.     I  checked  the  catapults  and  he 


i84  PUCK  OF  POOR'S  HILL 

waved  her  in.  She  came  as  a  hound  comes 
to  a  master.  When  she  was  yet  a  hundred 
paces  from  the  beach,  he  flung  back  his  hair, 
and  swam  out.  They  hauled  him  in,  and 
went  away.  I  knew  that  those  who  worship 
Mithras  are  many  and  of  all  races,  so  I  did 
not  think  much  more  upon  the  matter. 

'A  month  later  I  saw  Alio  with  his  horses 
— by  the  Temple  of  Pan,  O  Faun! — and  he 
gave  me  a  great  necklace  of  gold  studded 
with  coral. 

'  At  first  I  thought  it  was  a  bribe  from  some 
tradesman  in  the  town — meant  for  old  Rutilia- 
nus.  "  Nay,"  said  Alio.  "  This  is  a  gift  from 
Amal,  that  Winged  Hat  whom  you  saved  on 
the  beach.     He  says  you  are  a  Man.' 

*  "  He  is  a  Man,  too.  Tell  him  I  can  wear 
his  gift,"  I  answered. 

'  "  Oh,  Amal  is  a  young  fool;  but,  speaking 
as  sensible  men,  your  Emperor  is  doing  such 
great  things  in  Gaul  that  the  Winged  Hats  are 
anxious  to  be  his  friends,  or,  better  still,  the 
friends  of  his  servants.  They  think  you  and 
Pertinax  could  lead  them  to  victories."  Alio 
looked  at  me  like  a  one-eyed  raven. 

'"Alio,"  I  said,  "you  are  the  com  between 
the  two  millstones.  Be  content  if  they 
grind  evenly,  and  don't  thrust  your  hand 
between  them." 

•"I?"  said  Alio.  "I  hate  Rome  and  the 
Winged  Hats  equally;  but  if  the  Winged  Hats 
thought  that  some  day  you  and  Pertinax 
might  join  them  against  Maximus,  they  would 
leave  you  in  peace  while  you  considered. 
Time  is  what  we  need — you  and  I  and  Maxi- 


THE  WINGED  HATS  185 

mus.  Let  me  carry  a  pleasant  message  back 
to  the  Winged  Hats — something  for  them  to 
make  a  council  over.  We  barbarians  are  all 
alike.  We  sit  up  half  the  night  to  discuss 
anything  a  Roman  says.     Eh?" 

' "  We  have  no  men.  We  must  fight  with 
words."  said  Pertinax.  "Leave  it  to  Alio 
and  me." 

'  So  Alio  carried  word  back  to  the  Winged 
Hats  that  we  would  not  fight  them  if  they  did 
not  fight  us;  and  they  (I  think  they  were  a 
little  tired  of  losing  men  in  the  sea)  agreed  to 
a  sort  of  truce.  I  believe  Alio,  who  being  a 
horse-dealer  loved  lies,  also  told  them  w^e 
might  some  day  rise  against  Maximus  as 
Maximus  had  risen  against  Rome. 

'  Indeed,  they  permitted  the  corn-ships 
which  I  sent  to  the  Picts  to  pass  North  that 
season  without  harm.  Therefore  the  Picts 
were  well  fed  that  winter,  and  since  they  were 
in  some  sort  my  children,  I  was  glad  of  it. 
We  had  only  two  thousand  men  on  the  Wall, 
and  I  wrote  many  times  to  Maximus  and 
begged — prayed — him  to  send  me  only  one 
cohort  of  my  old  North  British  troops.  He 
could  not  spare  them.  He  needed  them  to 
win  more  victories  in  Gaul. 

Then  came  news  that  he  had  defeated  and 
slain  the  Emperor  Gratian,  and  thinking  he 
must  now  be  secure,  I  wrote  again  for  men. 
He  answered:  "  You  w411  learn  that  I  have  at 
last  settled  accounts  with  the  pup  Gratian. 
There  was  no  need  that  he  should  have  died, 
but  he  became  confused  and  lost  his  head, 
which  is  a  bad  thing  to  befall  any  Emperor. 


1 86  PUCK  OF  POOR'S  HILL 

Tell  your  Father  I  am  content  to  drive  two 
mules  only;  for  unless  my  old  General's  son 
thinks  himself  destined  to  destroy  me,  I  shall 
rest  Emperor  of  Gaul  and  Britain,  and  then 
you,  my  two  children,  will  presently  get  all 
the  men  you  need.  Just  now  I  can  spare 
none. " ' 

'What  did  he  mean  by  his  General's  son?' 
said  Dan. 

'  He  meant  Theodosius  Emperor  of  Rome, 
who  was  the  son  of  Theodosius  the  General 
under  whom  Maximus  had  fought  in  the  old 
Pict  War.  The  two  men  never  loved  each 
other,  and  when  Gratian  made  the  younger 
Theodosius  Emperor  of  the  East  (at  least,  so 
I've  heard),  Maximus  carried  on  the  war 
to  the  second  generation.  It  was  his  fate,  and 
it  was  his  fall.  But  Theodosius  the  Emperor 
is  a  good  man.  As  I  know.'  Pamesius  was 
silent  for  a  moment  and  then  continued. 

'  I  wrote  back  to  Maximus  that,  though  we 
had  peace  on  the  Wall,  I  should  be  happier 
with  a  few  more  men  and  some  new  catapults. 
He  answered:  "  You  must  live  a  little  longer 
under  the  shadow  of  my  victories,  till  I  can 
see  what  young  Theodosius  intends.  He  may 
welcome  me  as  a  brother- Emperor,  or  he  may 
be  preparing  an  army.  In  either  case  I  can- 
not spare  men  just  now."  ' 

'  But  he  was  always  saying  that,'  cried  Una. 

'It  was  true.  He  did  not  make  excuses; 
but  thanks,  as  he  said,  to  the  news  of  his 
victories,  we  had  no  trouble  on  the  Wall  for  a 
long,  long  time.  The  Picts  grew  fat  as  their 
own  sheep  among  the  heather,  and  as  many 


THE  WINGED  HATS  187 

of  my  men  as  lived  were  well  exercised  in 
their  weapons.  Yes,  the  Wall  looked  strong. 
For  myself,  I  knew  how  weak  we  were.  I 
knew  that  if  even  a  false  rumour  of  any  defeat 
to  Maximus  broke  loose  among  the  Winged 
Hats,  they  might  come  down  in  earnest,  and 
then — the  Wall  must  go!  For  the  Picts  I 
never  cared,  but  in  those  years  I  learned  some- 
thing of  the  strength  of  the  Winged  Hats. 
They  increased  their  strength  every  day,  but 
I  could  not  increase  my  men.  Maximus  had 
emptied  Britain  behind  us,  and  I  felt  myself 
to  be  a  man  with  a  rotten  stick  standing  before 
a  broken  fence  to  turn  bulls. 

'Thus,  my  friends,  we  lived  on  the  Wall, 
waiting — waiting — waiting  for  the  men  that 
Maximus  never  sent ! 

'Presently  he  wrote  that  he  was  preparing 
an  army  against  Theodosius.  He  wrote — 
and  Pertinax  read  it  over  my  shoulder  in  our 
quarters:  "Tell  your  Father  that  my  destiny 
orders  me  to  drive  three  mules  or  be  torn  in  pieces 
by  them.  I  hope  within  a  year  to  finish  with 
Theodosius,  son  of  Theodosius,  once  and  for  all. 
Then  you  shall  have  Britain  to  rule,  and  Per- 
tinax, if  he  chooses,  Gaul.  To-day  I  wish 
strongly  you  were  with  me  to  beat  my  Auxiliaries 
into  shape.  Do  not,  I  pray  you,  believe  any 
rumour  of  my  sickness.  I  have  a  Utile  evil  in 
my  old  body  which  I  shall  cure  by  riding  swiftly 
into  Rome. " 

'Said  Pertinax:  "It  is  finished  with  Maxi- 
mus! He  writes  as  a  man  without  hope.  I, 
a  man  without  hope,  can  see  this.  What 
does  he  add  at  the  bottom  of  the  roll?     *  Tell 


i88  PUCK  OF  POOR'S  HILL 

Pertinax  I  have  met  his  late  Uncle,  the  Duumvir 
of  Divio,  and  that  he  accounted  to  me  quite 
truthfully  for  all  his  Mother  s  monies.  I  have 
sent  her  with  a  fitting  escort,  for  she  is  the  mother 
of  a  hero,  to  NiccEa,  where  the  climate  is  warm. ' 

'"That  is  proof!"  said  Pertinax.  "  Nicaea 
is  not  far  by  sea  from  Rome.  A  woman 
there  could  take  ship  and  fly  to  Rome  in  time 
of  war.  Yes,  Maximus  foresees  his  death, 
and  is  fulfilling  his  promises  one  by  one.  But 
I  am  glad  my  Uncle  met  him."  ' 

'  "You  think  blackly  to-day?'  I  asked. 

' "  I  think  truth.  The  Gods  weary  of  the 
play  we  have  played  against  them.  Theodo- 
sius  will  destroy  Maximus.     It  is  finished ! ' 

'  "Will  you  write  him  that?"  I  said. 

*  "  See  what  I  shall  write,  "  he  answered,  and 
he  took  pen  and  wrote  a  letter  cheerful  as 
the  light  of  day,  tender  as  a  woman's  and 
full  of  jests.  Even  I,  reading  over  his  shoul- 
der, took  comfort  from  it  till — I  saw  his  face! 

'"And  now,"  he  said,  sealing  it,  "we  be 
two  dead  men,  my  brother.  Let  us  go  to  the 
Temple." 

'We  prayed  awhile  to  Mithras,  where  we 
had  many  times  prayed  before.  After  that 
we  lived  day  by  day  among  evil  rumours  till 
winter  came  again. 

'  It  happened  one  morning  that  we  rode  to 
the  East  Shore,  and  found  on  the  beach  a 
fair-haired  man,  half  frozen,  bound  to  some 
broken  planks.  Turning  him  over,  we  saw 
by  his  belt-buckle  that  he  was  a  Goth  of  an 
Eastern  Legion.  Suddenly  he  opened  his 
eyes  and  cried  loudly:     "He  is  dead!     The 


THE  WINGED  HATS  189 

letters  were  with  me,  but  the  Winged  Hats 
sunk  the  ship."  So  saying,  he  died  between 
our  hands. 

'We  asked  not  who  was  dead.  We  knew! 
We  raced  before  the  driving  snow  to  Hunno, 
thinking  perhaps  Alio  might  be  there.  We 
found  him  already  at  our  stables,  and  he  saw 
by  our  faces  what  we  had  heard. 

'"It  was  in  a  tent  by  the  Sea,"  he  stam- 
mered. "  He  was  beheaded  by  Theodosius. 
He  sent  a  letter  to  you,  written  while  he  waited 
to  be  slain.  The  Winged  Hats  met  the  ship 
and  took  it.  The  news  is  running  through 
the  heather  like  fire.  Blame  me  not !  I  cannot 
hold  back  my  young  men  any  more." 

' "  I  would  we  could  say  as  much  for  our 
men,"  said  Pertinax,  laughing.  "But,  Gods 
be  praised,  they  cannot  run  away." 

'  "  What  do  you  do? "  said  Alio.  "  I  bring 
an  order — a  message — from  the  Winged  Hats 
that  you  join  them  with  your  men,  and  march 
South  to  plunder  Britain." 

'"It  grieves  me,"  said  Pertinax,  "but  we 
are  stationed  here  to  stop  that  thing." 

'  "  If  I  carry  back  such  an  answer  they  will 
kill  me."  said  Alio.  "I  always  promised  the 
Winged  Hats  that  you  would  rise  when 
Maximus  fell.  I — I  did  not  think  he  could 
fall." 

'  "  Alas!  my  poor  barbarian,"  said  Pertinax, 
still  laughing.  "Well,  you  have  sold  us  too 
many  good  ponies  to  be  thrown  back  to  your 
friends.  We  will  make  you  a  prisoner,  al- 
though you  are  an  ambassador." 

'  "  Yes,  that  will  be  best,"  said  Alio,  holding 


iQo  PUCK  OP  POOK'S  HILL 

out  a  halter.  We  bound  him  Hghtly,  for  he 
was  an  old  man. 

' "  Presently  the  Winged  Hats  may  come 
to  look  for  you,  and  that  will  give  us  more 
time.  See  how  the  habit  of  playing  for  time 
sticks  to  a  man  !  "  said  Pertinax,  as  he  tied 
the  rope. 

'  "  No,"  I  said.  "  Time  may  help.  If  Maxi- 
mus  wrote  us  letters  while  he  was  a  prisoner, 
Theodosius  must  have  sent  the  ship  that 
brought  it.  If  he  can  send  ships,  he  can  send 
men. ' ' 

'  "  How  will  that  profit  us?"  said  Pertinax. 
"We  serve  Maximus,  not  Theodosius.  Even 
if  by  some  miracle  of  the  Gods  Theodosius 
down  South  sent  and  saved  the  Wall,  we 
could  not  expect  more  than  the  death  Maxi- 
mus died." 

* "  It  concerns  us  to  defend  the  Wall,  no 
matter  what  Emperor  dies,  or  makes  die," 
I  said. 

' "  That  is  worthy  of  your  brother  the 
philosopher,"  said  Pertinax.  "Myself  I  am 
without  hope,  so  I  do  not  say  solemn  and 
stupid  things!     Rouse  the  Wall ! " 

'We  armed  the  Wall  from  end  to  end;  we 
told  the  officers  that  there  was  a  rumour 
of  Maximus's  death  which  might  bring  down 
the  Winged  Hats,  but  we  were  sure,  even  if 
it  were  true,  that  Theodosius,  for  the  sake  of 
Britain,  would  send  us  help.  Therefore,  we 
must  stand  fast.  .  .  .  My  friends,  it  is 
above  all  things  strange  to  see  how  men  bear 
ill  news!  Often  the  strongest  till  then  be- 
come the  weakest,  while  the  weakest,  as  it 


THE  WINGED  HATS  191 

were,  reach  up  and  steal  strength  from  the 
Gods.  So  it  was  with  us.  Yet  my  Pertinax 
by  his  jests  and  his  courtesy  and  his  labours 
had  put  heart  and  training  into  our  poor 
numbers  during  the  past  years — more  than 
I  should  have  thought  possible.  Even  our 
Libyan  Cohort — the  Thirds — stood  up  in  their 
padded  cuirasses  and  did  not  whimper. 

*  In  three  days  came  seven  chiefs  and  elders 
of  the  Winged  Hats.  Among  them  was  that 
tall  young  man,  Amal,  whom  I  had  met  on 
the  beach,  and  he  smiled  when  he  saw  my 
necklace.  We  made  them  welcome,  for  they 
were  ambassadors.  We  showed  them  Alio, 
alive  but  bound.  They  thought  we  had  killed 
him,  and  I  saw  it  would  not  have  vexed  them 
if  we  had.  Alio  saw  it  too,  and  it  vexed  him. 
Then  in  our  quarters  at  Hunno  we  came  to 
Council. 

'They  said  that  Rome  was  falling,  and  that 
we  must  join  them.  They  offered  me  all 
South  Britain  to  govern  after  they  had  taken 
a  tribute  out  of  it. 

*  I  answered,  "  Patience.  This  Wall  is  not 
weighed  off  like  plunder.  Give  me  proof  that 
my  General  is  dead." 

'"Nay,"  said  one  elder,  "prove  to  us  that 
he  lives";  and  another  said,  cunningly, 
"What  will  you  give  us  if  we  read  you  his 
last  words?" 

*  "  We  are  not  merchants  to  bargain,"  cried 
Amal.  "  Moreover,  I  owe  this  man  my  life. 
He  shall  have  his  proof."  He  threw  across 
to  me  a  letter  (well  I  knew  the  seal)  from 
Maximus. 


192  PUCK  OF  POORS  HILL 

*"We  took  this  out  of  the  ship  we  sunk," 
he  cried.  "  I  cannot  read,  but  I  know  one 
sign,  at  least,  which  makes  me  beheve."  He 
showed  me  a  dark  stain  on  the  outer  roll  that 
my  heavy  heart  perceived  was  the  valiant 
blood  of  Maximus. 

'"Read!"  said  Amal.  "Read,  and  then 
let  us  hear  whose  servants  you  are ! " 

*  Said  Pertinax,  very  softly,  after  he  had 
looked  through  it:  "  I  will  read  it  all.  Listen, 
barbarians!"  He  read  from  that  which  I 
have  carried  next  my  heart  ever  since.' 

Pamesius  drew  from  his  neck  a  folded  and 
spotted  piece  of  parchment,  and  began  in  a 
hushed  voice: — 

'''To  Pamesius  and  Pertinax,  the  not  un- 
worthy Captains  of  the  Wall,  from  Maximus, 
once  Emperor  of  Gaul  and  Britain,  now  prisoner 
waiting  death  by  the  sea  in  the  camp  of  Theo- 
dosius — Greeting  and  Good-bye  P' 

'"Enough,"  said  young  Amal;  "there  is 
your  proof  !     You  must  join  us  now  ! " 

*  Pertinax  looked  long  and  silently  at  him, 
till  that  fair  man  blushed  like  a  girl.  Then 
read  Pertinax: — 

' "  7  have  joyfully  done  much  evil  in  my  life 
to  those  who  have  wished  me  evil,  but  if  ever  I 
did  any  evil  to  you  two  I  repent,  and  I  ask  your 
forgiveness.  The  three  mules  which  I  strove 
to  drive  have  torn  me  in  pieces  as  your  Father 
prophesied.  The  naked  swords  wait  at  the 
tent  door  to  give  me  the  death  I  gave  to  Gratian. 
Therefore  I,  your  General  and  your  Emperor, 
send  you  free  and  honourable  dismissal  from 
my  service,  which  you  entered,  not  for  money 


THE  WINGED  HATS  193 

or  office,  hut,  as  it  makes  vne  warm  to  believe, 
because  you  loved  me!'' 

'"By  the  Light  of  the  Sun,"  Amal  broke 
in.  "  This  was  in  some  sort  a  Man  !  We  may 
have  been  mistaken  in  his  servants  !  " 

'And  Pertinax  read  on:  "  You  gave  me  the 
time  for  which  I  asked.  If  I  have  jailed  to  use  it, 
do  not  lament.  We  have  gambled  very  splen- 
didly against  the  Gods,  but  they  hold  weighted 
dice,  and  I  must  pay  the  forfeit.  Remember, 
I  have  been;  but  Rome  is;  and  Rome  will  be  ! 
Tell  Pertinax  his  AI other  is  in  safety  at  Niccea, 
and  her  monies  are  in  charge  of  the  Prefect  at 
Antipolis.  Make  my  remembrances  to  your 
Father  and  to  your  Mother,  whose  friendship 
was  great  gain  to  me.  Give  also  to  my  little 
Picts  and  to  the  Winged  Hats  such  messages  as 
their  thick  heads  can  understand.  I  would 
have  sent  you  three  Legions  this  very  day  if  all 
had  gone  aright.  Do  not  forget  me.  We  have 
worked  together.  Farewell  I  Farewell  I  Fare- 
well/'' 

'  Now,  that  was  my  Emperor's  last  letter. 
(The  children  heard  the  parchment  crackle  as 
Pamesius  returned  it  to  its  place.) 

"'I  was  mistaken,"  said  Amal.  "The 
servants  of  such  a  man  will  sell  nothing  except 
over  the  sword.  I  am  glad  of  it."  He  held 
out  his  hand  to  me. 

' "  But  Maximus  has  given  you  your  dis- 
missal," said  an  elder.  "You  are  certainly 
free  to  serve — or  to  rule — whom  you  please. 
Join — do  not  follow— join  us  ! " 

'"We  thank  you,"  said  Pertinax.  "But 
Maximus  tells  us  to  give  you  such  messages  as 


194  PUCK  OF  POOR'S  HILL 

— pardon  me,  but  I  use  his  words — your  thick 
heads  can  understand."  He  pointed  through 
the  door  to  the  foot  of  a  catapult  wound  up. 

'"We  understand,"  said  an  elder.  "The 
Wall  must  be  won  at  a  price?" 

'"It  grieves  me,"  said  Pertinax,  laughing, 
"but  so  it  must  be  won,"  and  he  gave  them 
of  our  best  Southern  wine. 

'  They  drank,  and  wiped  their  yellow  beards 
in  silence  till  they  rose  to  go. 

'  Said  Amal,  stretching  himself  (for  they 
were  barbarians),  "  We  be  a  goodly  company; 
I  wonder  what  the  ravens  and  the  dogfish  will 
make  of  some  of  us  before  this  snow  melts." 

'  "  Think  rather  what  Theodosius  may  send," 
I  answered;  and  though  they  laughed,  I  saw 
that  my  chance  shot  troubled  them. 

'  Only  old  Alio  lingered  behind  a  little. 

'"You  see,"  he  said,  winking  and  blinking, 
"  I  am  no  more  than  their  dog.  When  I  have 
shown  their  men  the  secret  short  ways  across 
our  bogs,  they  will  kick  me  like  one." 

' "  Then  I  should  not  be  in  haste  to  show 
them  those  ways,"  said  Pertinax,  "till  I  were 
sure  that  Rome  could  not  save  the  Wall." 

'  "  You  think  so  ?  Woe  is  me  !  "  said  the 
old  man.  "  I  only  wanted  peace  for  my 
people,"  and  he  went  out  stumbling  through 
the  snow  behind  the  tall  Winged  Hats. 

'  In  this  fashion  then,  slowly,  a  day  at  a 
time,  which  is  very  bad  for  doubting  troops, 
the  War  came  upon  us.  At  first  the  Winged 
Hats  swept  in  from  the  sea  as  they  had  done 
before,  and  there  we  met  them  as  before — 
with  the  catapults ;  and  they  sickened  of  it. 


THE  WINGED  HATS  195 

Yet  for  a  long  time  they  would  not  trust  their 
duck-legs  on  land,  and  I  think  when  it  came 
to  revealing  the  secrets  of  the  tribe,  the  little 
Picts  were  afraid  or  ashamed  to  show  them  all 
the  roads  across  the  heather.  I  had  this  from 
a  Pict  prisoner.  They  were  as  much  our  spies 
as  our  enemies,  for  the  Winged  Hats  oppressed 
them,  and  took  their  winter  stores.  Ah, 
foolish  Little  People! 

'  Then  the  Winged  Hats  began  to  roll  us  up 
from  each  end  of  the  Wall.  I  sent  runners 
Southward  to  see  what  the  news  might  be  in 
Britain;  but  the  wolves  were  very  bold  that 
winter  among  the  deserted  stations  where  the 
troops  had  once  been,  and  none  camiC  back. 
We  had  trouble  too  with  the  forage  for  the 
ponies  along  the  Wall.  I  kept  ten,  and  so 
did  Pertinax.  We  lived  and  slept  in  the  saddle 
riding  east  or  west,  and  we  ate  our  worn-out 
ponies.  The  people  of  the  town  also  made  us 
some  trouble  till  I  gathered  them  all  in  one 
quarter  behind  Hunno.  We  broke  down  the 
Wall  on  either  side  of  it  to  make  as  it  were  a 
citadel.  Our  men  fought  better  in  close 
order. 

'By  the  end  of  the  second  month  we  were 
deep  in  the  War  as  a  man  is  deep  in  a  snoAA - 
drift  or  in  a  dream.  I  think  we  fought  in  our 
sleep.  At  least  I  know  I  have  gone  on  the 
Wall  and  come  off  again,  remembering  nothing 
between,  though  my  throat  was  harsh  with 
giving  orders,  and  my  sword,  I  could  see, 
had  been  used. 

'The  Winged  Hats  fought  like  wolves — all 
in  a  pack.     Where  they  had  suffered  most, 


196  PUCK  OF  POOK'S  HILL 

there  they  charged  in  most  hotly.  This  was 
hard  for  the  defender,  but  it  held  them  from 
sweeping  on  into  Britain. 

*  In  those  days  Pertinax  and  I  wrote  on  the 
plaster  of  the  bricked  archway  into  Valentia 
the  names  of  the  towers,  and  the  days  on 
which  they  fell  one  by  one.  We  wished  for 
some   record. 

'And  the  fighting?  The  fight  was  always 
hottest  to  left  and  right  of  the  great  Statue  of 
Roma  Dea,  near  to  Rutilianus'  house.  By 
the  light  of  the  Sun,  that  old  fat  man,  whom 
we  had  not  considered  at  all,  grew  3'oung 
again  among  the  trumpets!  I  remember  he 
said  his  sw^ord  was  an  oracle!  "Let  us  con- 
sult the  Oracle,"  he  would  say,  and  put  the 
handle  against  his  ear,  and  shake  his  head 
wisely.  "  And  this  day  is  allowed  Rutilianus 
to  live,"  he  would  say,  and,  tucking  up  his 
cloak,  he  would  puff  and  pant  and  fight  well. 
Oh,  there  were  jests  in  plenty  on  the  Wall  to 
take  the  place  of  food! 

*We  endured  for  two  months  and  seven- 
teen days — always  being  pressed  from  three 
sides  into  a  smaller  space.  Several  times  Alio 
sent  in  word  that  help  was  at  hand.  We  did 
not  believe  it,  but  it  cheered  our  men. 

'The  end  came  not  with  shoutings  of  joy, 
but,  like  the  rest,  as  in  a  dream.  The  Winged 
Hats  suddenly  left  us  in  peace  for  one  night, 
and  the  next  day ;  which  is  too  long  for  spent 
men.  We  slept  at  first  lightly,  expecting  to 
be  roused,  and  then  like  logs,  each  where  he 
lay.  May  you  never  need  such  sleep !  When 
I  waked    our   towers   were  full   of    strange, 


THE  WINGED  HATS  197 

armed  men,  who  watched  us  snoring.  I 
roused  Pertinax,  and  we  leaped  up  together 

'"What?"  said  a  young  man  in  clean 
armour.  "Do  you  fight  against  Theodosius? 
Look!" 

'North  we  looked  over  the  red  snow.  No 
Winged  Hats  were  there.  South  we  looked 
over  the  white  snow,  and  behold  there  were 
the  Eagles  of  two  strong  Legions  encamped. 
East  and  west  we  saw  flame  and  fighting,  but 
by  Hunno  all  was  still. 

'"Trouble  no  more,"  said  the  young  man. 
"Rome's  arm  is  long.  Where  are  the  Cap- 
tains of  the  Wall?" 

'  We  said  we  were  those  men. 

'"But  you  are  old  and  grey-haired."  he 
cried.     "Maximus  said  that  they  were  boys." 

'"Yes  that  was  true  some  years  ago," 
said  Pertinax.  "  What  is  our  fate  to  be,  you 
fine  and  well-fed  child?" 

'  "  I  am  called  Ambrosius,  a  secretary  of  the 
Emperor,"  he  answered.  "Show  me  a  cer- 
tain letter  which  Maximus  wrote  from  a  tent 
at  Aquileia,  and  perhaps  I  will  believe." 

'  I  took  it  from  my  breast,  and  when  he  had 
read  it  he  saluted  us,  saying:  "Your  fate  is 
in  your  own  hands.  If  you  choose  to  serve 
Theodosius,  he  will  give  you  a  Legion.  If 
it  suits  you  to  go  to  your  homes,  we  will  give 
you  a  Triumph." 

' "  I  would  like  better  a  bath,  wine,  food, 
razors,  soaps,  oils,  and  scents,"  said  Pertinax, 
laughing. 

'  "  Oh,  I  see  you  are  a  boy,"  said  Ambrosius. 
"  And  you? "   turning  to  me. 


198  PUCK  OF  POOK'S  HILL 

* "  We  bear  no  ill-will  against  Theodosius, 
but  in  War "  I  began. 

'  "  In  War  it  is  as  it  is  in  Love,"  said  Per- 
tinax.  "  Whether  she  be  good  or  bad,  one 
gives  one's  best  once,  to  one  only.  That 
given,  there  remains  no  second  worth  giving  or 
taking. ' ' 

'"That  is  true,"  said  Ambrosius.  "I  was 
with  Maximus  before  he  died.  He  warned 
Theodosius  that  you  would  never  serve  him, 
and  frankly  I  say  I  am  sorry  for  my  Emperor." 

'"He  has  Rome  to  console  him, "said 
Pertinax.  "  I  ask  you  of  your  kindness  to 
let  us  go  to  our  homes  and  get  this  smell  out 
''of  our  nostrils." 

'None  the  less  they  gave  us  a  Triumph!' 

*It  was  well  earned,'  said  Puck,  throwing 
some  leaves  into  the  still  water  of  the  marlpit. 
The  black,  oily  circles  spread  dizzily  as  the 
children  watched  them. 

'  I  want  to  know,  oh,  ever  so  many  things,' 
said  Dan.  'What  happened  to  old  Alio? 
Did  the  Winged  Hats  ever  come  back?  And 
what  did  Amal  do?' 

'  And  what  happened  to  the  fat  old  Gen- 
eral with  the  five  cooks  ? '  said  Una.  '  And 
what  did  your  Mother  say  when  you  came 
home? '     .     .     . 

*  She'd  say  you're  settin'  too  long  over  this 
old  pit,  so  late  as  'tis  already,'  said  old 
Hobden's  voice  behind  them.  '  Hst ! '  he 
whispered. 

He  stood  still,  for  not  twenty  paces  away 
a  magnificent  dog-fox  sat  on  his  haunches  and 


THE  WINGED  HATS  199 

looked  at  the  children  as  though  he  were  an 
old  friend  of  theirs. 

*0h,  Mus'  Reynolds,  Mus'  Reynolds!'  said 
Hobden,  under  his  breath.  '  If  I  knowed  all 
was  inside  your  head,  I'd  know  something 
wuth  knowin'.  Mus'  Dan  an'  Miss  Una, 
come  along  o'  me  while  I  lock  up  my  liddle 
hen-house.' 


A  PICT  SONG 


Rome  never  looks  where  she  treads, 

Always  her  heavy  hooves  fall. 
On  our  stomachs,  our  hearts  or  our  heads; 

And  Rome  never  heeds  when  we  bawl. 
Her  sentries  pass  on — that  is  all, 

And  we  gather  behind  them  in  hordes ^ 
And  plot  to  reconquer  the  Wall, 

With  only  our  tongues  for  our  swords. 


We  are  the  Little  Folk — we  ! 

Too  little  to  love  or  to  hate. 
Leave  us  alone  and  you'll  see 

How  we  can  drag  down  the  Great! 
We  are  the  worm  in  the  wood! 

We  are  the  rot  at  the  root ! 
We  are  the  germ  in  the  blood! 

We  are  the  thorn  in  the  foot ! 


Mistletoe  killing  an  oak — 

Rats  gnawing  cables  in  two — 
Moths  making  holes  in  a  cloak — 

How  they  must  love  what  they  do! 
Yes, — and  we  Little  Folk  too. 

We  are  as  busy  as  they — 
Working  our  works  out  of  view — 

Watch,  and  you'll  see  it  some  day! 

201 


202  PUCK  OF  POOR'S  HILL 

No  indeed  !     We  are  not  strong, 

But  we  know  Peoples  that  are. 
Yes,  and  we'll  guide  them  along, 

To  smash  and  destroy  you  in  War  ! 
We  shall  he  slaves  just  the  same  ? 

Yes,  we  have  always  been  slaves; 
But  you — you  will  die  of  the  shame. 

And  then  we  shall  dance  on  your  graves! 


We  are  the  Little  Folk,  we  !  etc. 


HAL  O'  THE   DRAFT 


Prophets  have  honour  all  over  the  Earthy 
Except  in  the  village  where  they  were  horn; 

Where  such  as  knew  them  hoys  from  birth, 
Nature-ally  hold  'em  in  scorn. 

When  Prophets  are  naughty  and  young  and  vain. 
They  make  a  wonderful  grievance  of  it; 

(Vou  can  see  by  their  writings  how  they  complain, 
But  O,  'tis  won' erf ul  good  for  the  Prophet  I 

There's  nothing  Nineveh  Town  can  give, 
(Nor  being  swallowed  by  whales  between), 

Makes  up  for  the  place  where  a  man's  folk  live, 
That  don't  care  nothing  what  he  has  been. 

He  might  ha'  been  that,  or  he  might  ha'  been  this, 

But  they  love  and  they  hate  him  for  what  he  is! 


205 


Stf  page  212 


'Hoity-toity!'  he  cried.  'Here's  Pride  in  purple  feathers!  Here's 
wrathy  contempt  and  the  Pomps  of  the  Flesh !'....  And  he  doffed 
his  cap  to  the  bubbling  bird. 


HAL  O'   THE   DRAFT 


A  RAINY  afternoon  drove  Dan  and  Una 
over  to  play  pirates  in  the  Little  Mill. 
If  you  don't  mind  rats  on  the  rafters  and  oats 
in  your  shoes,  the  mill-attic,  with  its  trap-doors 
and  inscriptions  on  beams  about  floods  and 
sweethearts,  is  a  splendid  place.  It  is  lighted 
by  a  foot-square  window,  called  Duck  Win- 
dow, that  looks  across  to  Little  Lindens 
Farm,  and  the  spot  w^here  Jack  Cade  was 
killed. 

When  they  had  climbed  the  attic  ladder 
(they  called  it  the  'mainmast  tree'  out  of 
the  ballad  of  Sir  Andrew  Barton,  and  Dan 
'swarved  it  with  might  and  main,'  as  the 
ballad  says)  they  saw  a  man  sitting  on  Duck 
window-sill.  He  was  dressed  in  a  plum- 
coloured  doublet  and  tight  plum-coloured 
hose,  and  he  drew  busily  in  a  red-edged  book. 

'Sit  ye!  Sit  ye!'  Puck  cried  from  a  rafter 
overhead.  'See  what  it  is  to  be  beautiful! 
Sir  Harry  Dawe — pardon,  Hal — says  I  am 
the  very  image  of  a  head  for  a  gargoyle. ' 

The  man  laughed  and  raised  his  dark  velvet 
cap  to  the  children,  and  his  grizzled  hair 
bristled  out  in  a  stormy  fringe.  He  was  old — 
forty  at  least — but  his  eyes  were  young,  with 
funny  little  wrinkles  all  round  them.  A 
satchel  of  embroidered  leather  hung  from  his 
broad  belt,  which  looked  interesting. 

207 


2o8  PUCK  OF  POOR'S  HILL 

'  May  we  see  ? '  said  Una,  coming  forward. 

*  Surely — sure-ly ! '  he  said,  moving  up  on 
the  window-seat,  and  returned  to  his  work 
with  a  silver-pointed  pencil.  Puck  sat  as 
though  the  grin  were  fixed  for  ever  on  his 
broad  face,  while  they  watched  the  quick, 
certain  fingers  that  copied  it.  Presently  the 
man  took  a  reed  pen  from  his  satchel,  and 
trimmed  it  with  a  little  ivory  knife,  carved 
in  the  semblance  of  a  fish. 

'  Oh,  what  a  beauty  ! '  cried  Dan. 

*  'Ware  fingers !  That  blade  is  perilous 
sharp.  I  made  it  myself  of  the  best  Low 
Country  cross-bow  steel.  And  so,  too,  this 
fish.  When  his  back-fin  travels  to  his  tail — 
so — he  swallows  up  the  blade,  even  as  the 
whale  swallowed  Gaffer  Jonah.  .  .  .  Yes, 
and  that's  my  ink-horn.  I  made  the  four 
silver    saints     round    it.     Press    Bamabas's 

head.     It  opens,  and  then '     He  dipped 

the  trimmed  pen,  and  with  careful  boldness 
began  to  put  in  the  essential  lines  of  Puck's 
rugged  face,  that  had  been  but  faintly  re- 
vealed by  the  silver-point. 

The  children  gasped,  for  it  fairly  leaped  from 
the  page. 

As  he  worked,  and  the  rain  fell  on  the  tiles, 
he  talked — now  clearly,  now  muttering,  now 
breaking  off  to  frown  or  smile  at  his  work. 
He  told  them  he  was  bom  at  Little  Lindens 
Farms,  and  his  father  used  to  beat  him  for 
drawing  things  instead  of  doing  things,  till 
an  old  priest  called  Father  Roger,  who  drew 
illuminated  letters  in  rich  people's  books, 
coaxed  the  parents  to    let  him  take  the  boy 


HAL  O'  THE  DRAFT  209 

as  a  sort  of  painter's  apprentice.  Then  he 
went  with  Father  Roger  to  Oxford,  where  he 
cleaned  plates  and  carried  cloaks  and  shoes 
for  the  scholars  of  a  College  called  Merton. 

'Didn't  you  hate  that?'  said  Dan  after  a 
great  many  other  questions. 

*I  never  thought  on't.  Half  Oxford  was 
building  new  colleges  or  beautifying  the  old, 
and  she  had  called  to  her  aid  the  master- 
craftsmen  of  all  Christendie — kings  in  their 
trade  and  honoured  of  Kings.  I  knew  them. 
I  worked  for  them:  that  was  enough.  No 
wonder *     He  stopped  and  laughed. 

'  You  became  a  great  man,'  said  Puck. 

'They  said  so,  Robin.  Even  Bramante 
said  so.' 

'  Why  ?     What  did  you  do  ? '     Dan  asked. 

The  artist  looked  at  him  queerly.  '  Things 
in  stone  and  such,  up  and  down  England. 
You  would  not  have  heard  of  'em.  To  come 
nearer  home,  I  re-builded  this  little  St. 
Bartholomew's  church  of  ours.  It  cost  me 
more  trouble  and  sorrow  than  aught  I've 
touched  in  my  life.     But  'twas  a  sound  lesson.' 

'Um,'  said  Dan.  'We  had  lessons  this 
morning,' 

'I'll  not  afflict  ye,  lad,'  said  Hal,  while 
Puck  roared.  'Only  'tis  strange  to  think 
how  that  little  church  was  re-built,  re-roofed, 
and  made  glorious,  thanks  to  some  few  godly 
Sussex  iron-masters,  a  Bristol  sailor  lad,  a 
proud  ass  called  Hal  o'  the  Draft  because, 
d'you  see,  he  was  always  drawing  and  drafting; 
and' — he  dragged  the  words  slowly — 'and  a 
Scotch  pirate.' 


2IO  PUCK  OF  POOR'S  HILL 

'Pirate?'  said  Dan.  He  wriggled  like  a 
hooked  fish. 

*  Even  that  Andrew  Barton  you  were  singing 
of  on  the  stair  just  now.'  He  dipped  again  in 
the  ink-well,  and  held  his  breath  over  a  sweep- 
ing line,  as  though  he  had  forgotten  every- 
thing else. 

'Pirates  don't  build  churches,  do  they?' 
said  Dan.     '  Or  do  they  ? ' 

'They  help  mightily,'  Hal  laughed.  'But 
you  were  at  your  lessons  this  mom,  Jack 
Scholar?' 

'Oh,  pirates  aren't  lessons.  It  was  only 
Bruce  and  his  silly  old  spider,'  said  Una. 
*  Why  did  Sir  Andrew  Barton  help  you? ' 

'I  question  if  he  ever  knew  it,'  said  Hal, 
twinkling.  '  Robin,  how  a-mischief 's  name 
am  I  to  tell  these  innocents  what  comes  of 
sinful  pride?' 

'Oh,  we  know  all  about  that,'  said  Una 
pertly.  '  If  you  get  too  beany — that's  cheeky 
— you  get  sat  upon,  of  course.' 

Hal  considered  a  moment,  pen  in  air,  and 
Puck  said  some  long  words. 

'Aha!  That  was  my  case  too,'  he  cried. 
'Beany — you  say — but  certainly  I  did  not 
conduct  myself  well.  1  was  proud  of — of 
such  things  as  porches — a  Galilee  porch  at 
Lincoln  for  choice — proud  of  one  Torrigiano's 
arm  on  my  shoulder,  proud  of  my  knighthood 
when  I  made  the  gilt  scroll-work  for  The 
Sovereign — our  King's  ship.  But  Father 
Roger  sitting  in  Merton  Library,  he  did  not 
forget  me.  At  the  top  of  my  pride,  when  I 
and  no  other  should  have  builded  the  porch 


HAL  O'  THE  DRAFT  211 

at  Lincoln,  he  laid  it  on  me  with  a  terrible 
forefinger  to  go  back  to  my  Sussex  clays  and 
re-build,  at  my  own  charges,  my  own  church, 
where  we  Dawes  have  been  buried  for  six 
generations.  "  Out !  Son  of  my  Art ! "  said  he. 
"  Fight  the  Devil  at  home  ere  you  call  yourself 
a  man  and  a  craftsman."  And  I  quaked,  and 
I  went.  .  .  .  How's  yon,  Robin?'  He 
flourished  the  finished  sketch  before  Puck. 

*  Me  !  Me  past  perad venture, '  said  Puck, 
smirking  like  a  man  at  a  mirror.  *  Ah,  see ! 
The  rain  has  took  off !  I  hate  housen  in  day- 
light.' 

'Whoop!  Holiday!'  cried  Hal,  leaping  uf). 
*  Who's  for  my  Little  Lindens  ?  We  can  talk 
there.' 

They  tumbled  downstairs,  and  turned  past 
the  dripping  willows  by  the  sunny  mill  dam. 

'Body  o'  me,'  said  Hal,  staring  at  the  hop- 
garden, where  the  hops  were  just  ready  to 
blossom.  'What  are  these  vines?  No,  not 
vines,  and  they  twine  the  wrong  way  to  beans.' 
He  began  to  draw  in  his  ready  book. 

'  Hops.  New  since  your  day,'  said  Puck. 
'They're  an  herb  of  Mars,  and  their  flowers 
dried  flavour  ale.     We  say: — 

'  "  Turkeys,  Heresy,  Hops,  and  Beer 
Came  into  England  all  in  one  year."  ' 

'Heresy  I  know.  I've  seen  Hops — God 
be  praised  for  their  beauty !  What  is  your 
Turkis?' 

The  children  laughed.  They  knew  the 
Lindens  turkeys,  and  as  soon  as  they  reached 


212  PUCK  OF  POOR'S  HILL 

Lindens'  orchard  on  the  hill  the  flock  charged 
at  them. 

Out  came  Hal's  book  at  once.  'Hoity- 
toity!'  he  cried.  'Here's  Pride  in  purple 
feathers!  Here's  wrathy  contempt  and  the 
Pomps  of  the  Flesh!     How  d'you  call  them}' 

'  Turkeys !  Turkeys ! '  the  children  shouted, 
as  the  old  gobbler  raved  and  flamed  against 
Hal's  plum-coloured  hose. 

'  Save  Your  Magnificence ! '  he  said.  'I've 
drafted  two  good  new  things  to-day.'  And 
he  doffed  his  cap  to  the  bubbling  bird. 

Then  they  walked  through  the  grass  to  the 
knoll  where  Little  Lindens  stands.  The  old 
farm-house,  weather-tiled  to  the  ground, 
took  almost  the  colour  of  a  blood-ruby 
in  the  afternoon  light.  The  pigeons  pecked 
at  the  mortar  in  the  chimney-stacks;  the 
bees  that  had  lived  under  the  tiles  since  it 
was  built  filled  the  hot  August  air  with  their 
booming;  and  the  smell  of  the  box-tree  by 
the  dairy-window  mixed  with  the  smell  of 
earth  after  rain,  bread  after  baking,  and  a 
tickle  of  wood-smoke. 

The  farmer's  wife  came  to  the  door,  baby 
on  arm,  shaded  her  brows  against  the  sun, 
stooped  to  pluck  a  sprig  of  rosemary,  and 
turned  down  the  orchard.  The  old  spaniel 
in  his  barrel  barked  once  or  twice  to  show  he 
was  in  charge  of  the  empty  house.  Puck 
clicked  back  the  garden-gate. 

'D'you  marvel  that  I  love  it?'  said  Hal, 
in  a  whisper.  '  What  can  town  folk  know  of 
the  nature  of  housen — or  land  ? ' 

They  perched  themselves  arow  on  the  old 


HAL  O'  THE  DRAFT  213 

hacked  oak  bench  in  Lindens'  garden,  looking 
across  the  valley  of  the  brook  at  the  fern- 
covered  dimples  and  hollows  of  the  Forge 
behind  Hobden's  cottage.  The  old  man  was 
cutting  a  faggot  in  his  garden  by  the  hives. 
It  was  quite  a  second  after  his  chopper  fell 
that  the  chump  of  the  blow  reached  their 
lazy  ears. 

'  Eh — yeh ! '  said  Hal.  '  I  mind  when  where 
that  old  gaffer  stands  was  Nether  Forge — 
Master  John  Collins 's  foundry.  Many  a  night 
has  his  big  trip-hammer  shook  me  in  my  bed 
here.  Boom-bitty  !  Boom-bitty  I  If  the  wind 
was  east,  I  could  hear  Master  Tom  Collins's 
forge  at  Stockens  answering  his  brother, 
Boom-oop !  Boom-oop !  and  midway  be- 
tween. Sir  John  Pelham's  sledge-hammers  at 
Brightling  would  strike  in  like  a  pack  o'scholars, 
and  ''  Hic-haec-hoc''  they'd  say,  '' Hic-haec- 
hoc,''  till  I  fell  asleep.  Yes.  The  valley  was 
as  full  o'  forges  and  fineries  as  a  May  shaw  o' 
cuckoos.     All  gone  to  grass  now!' 

'What  did  they  make?'    said  Dan. 

'  Guns  for  the  King's  ships — and  for  others. 
Serpentines  and  cannon  mostly.  When  the 
guns  were  cast,  down  would  come  the  King's 
Officers,  and  take  our  plough-oxen  to  haul 
them  to  the  coast.  Look!  Here's  one  of 
the  first  and  finest  craftsmen  of  the  Sea!' 

He  fiuttered  back  a  page  of  his  book,  and 
showed  them  a  young  man's  head.  Under- 
neath was  written:     'Sebastianus.* 

'He  came  down  with  a  King's  Order  on 
Master  John  Collins  for  twenty  serpentines 
(wicked  little  cannon  they  be!)  to  furnish  a 


214  PUCK  OF  POOR'S  HILL 

venture  of  ships.  I  drafted  him  thus  sitting 
by  our  fire  telling  Mother  of  the  new  lands 
he'd  find  the  far  side  the  world.  And  he 
found  them,  too  !  There's  a  nose  to  cleave 
through  unknown  seas!  Cabot  was  his  name 
— a  Bristol  lad — half  a  foreigner.  I  set  a 
heap  by  him.  He  helped  me  to  my  church- 
building.  ' 

'I  thought  that  was  Sir  Andrew  Barton,* 
said  Dan. 

*Ay,  but  foundations  before  roofs,'  Hal 
answered.  'Sebastian  first  put  me  in  the 
way  of  it.  I  had  come  down  here,  not  to 
serve  God  as  a  craftsman  should,  but  to  show 
my  people  how  great  a  craftsman  I  was. 
They  cared  not,  and  it  served  me  right,  one 
split  straw  for  my  craft  or  my  greatness. 
What  a  murrain  call  had  I,  they  said,  to 
mell  with  old  St.  Bamabas's  ?  Ruinous  the 
church  had  been  since  the  Black  Death,  and 
ruinous  she  should  remain;  and  I  could  hang 
myself  in  my  new  scaffold-ropes !  Gentle  and 
simple,  high  and  low — the  Hayes,  the  Fowles, 
the  Fanners,  the  Collinses — they  were  all  in  a 
tale  against  me.  Only  Sir  John  Pelham  up 
yonder  to  Brightling  bade  me  heart-up  and  go 
on.  Yet  how  could  I  ?  Did  I  ask  Master  Col- 
lins for  his  timber- tug  to  haul  beams  ?  The 
oxen  had  gone  to  Lewes  after  lime  Did  he 
promise  me  a  set  of  iron  cramps  or  ties  for  the 
roof?  They  never  came  to  hand,  or  else  they 
were  spaulty  or  cracked.  So  with  everything. 
Nothing  said,  but  naught  done  except  I  stood 
by  them,  and  then  done  amiss.  I  thought  the 
countryside  was  fair  bewitched. ' 


HAL  O'  THE  DRAFT  215 

'It  was,  sure-ly,'  said  Puck,  knees  under 
chin.     'Did  you  never  suspect  any  one  ? ' 

'Not  till  Sebastian  came  for  his  guns,  and 
John  Collins  played  him  the  same  dog's  tricks 
as  he'd  played  me  with  my  ironwork.  Week 
in,  week  out,  two  of  three  serpentines  would 
be  flawed  in  the  casting,  and  only  fit,  they 
said,  to  be  remelted.  Then  John  Collins 
would  shake  his  head,  and  vow  he  could  pass 
no  cannon  for  the  King's  service  that  were  not 
perfect.  Saints!  How  Sebastian  stormed  ! 
/  know,  for  we  sat  on  this  bench  sharing  our 
sorrows  inter-common. 

*  When  Sebastian  had  fumed  away  six  weeks 
at  Lindens  and  gotten  just  six  serpentines. 
Dirk  Brenzett,  Master  of  the  Cygnet  hoy,  sends 
me  word  that  the  block  of  stone  he  was  fetching 
me  from  France  for  our  new  font  he'd  hove 
overboard  to  lighten  his  ship,  chased  by 
Andrew  Barton  up  to  Rye  Port.' 

*  Ah  !     The  pirate  ! '  said  Dan. 

*  Yes.  And  while  I  am  tearing  my  hair  over 
this,  Ticehurst  Will,  my  best  mason,  comes 
to  me  shaking,  and  vowing  that  the  Devil, 
horned,  tailed,  and  chained,  has  run  out  on 
him  from  the  church-tower,  and  the  men  would 
work  there  no  more.  So  I  took  'em  off  the 
foundations,  which  we  were  strengthening, 
and  went  into  the  Bell  Tavern  for  a  cup  of  ale. 
Says  Master  John  Collins:  "  Have  it  your  own 
way,  lad;  but  if  I  was  you,  I'd  take  the  sinnifi- 
cation  o'  the  sign,  and  leave  old  Bamabas's 
Church  alone  !  "  And  they  all  wagged  their 
sinful  heads,  and  agreed.  Less  afraid  of  the 
Devil  than  of  me — as  I  saw  later. 


2i6  PUCK  OF  POOK'S  HILL 

'When  I  brought  my  sweet  news  to 
Lindens,  Sebastian  was  limewashing  the 
kitchen-beams  for  Mother.  He  loved  her  Hke 
a  son. 

'"Cheer  up,  lad,"  he  says.  "God's  where 
He  was.  Only  you  and  I  chance  to  be  pure 
pute  asses!  We've  been  tricked,  Hal,  and 
more  shame  to  me,  a  sailor,  that  I  did  not 
guess  it  before!  You  must  leave  your  belfry 
alone,  forsooth,  because  the  Devil  is  adrift 
there;  and  I  cannot  get  my  serpentines  be- 
cause John  Collins  cannot  cast  them  aright. 
Meantime  Andrew  Barton  hawks  off  the  Port 
of  Rye.  And  why?  To  take  those  very 
serpentines  which  poor  Cabot  must  whistle 
for;  the  said  serpentines,  Pll  wager  my  share 
of  new  Continents,  being  now  hid  away  in  St. 
Barnabas  church  tower.  Clear  as  the  Irish 
coast  at  noonday!" 

'  "They'd  sure  never  dare  to  do  it,"  I  said; 
"  and  for  another  thing,  selling  cannon  to  the 
King's  enemies  is  black  treason — hanging  and 
fine." 

* "  It  is  sure  large  profit.  Men'll  dare  any 
gallows  for  that.  I  have  been  a  trader  my- 
self," says  he.  "We  must  be  upsides  with 
'em  for  the  honour  of  Bristol." 

'Then  he  hatched  a  plot,  sitting  on  the 
lime-wash  bucket.  We  gave  out  to  ride  o' 
Tuesday  to  London  and  made  a  show  of  mak- 
ing farewells  of  our  friends — especially  of 
Master  John  Collins.  But  at  Wadhurst  Woods 
we  turned ;  rode  by  night  to  the  watermeadows ; 
hid  our  horses  in  a  willow-tot  at  the  foot  of 
the  glebe,  and  stole  a-tiptoe  up  hill  to  Bar- 


HAL  O'  THE  DRAFT  217 

nabas's  church  again.     A  thick  mist,  and  a 
moon  coming  through. 

*  I  had  no  sooner  locked  the  tower-door 
behind  us  than  over  goes  Sebastian  full  length 
in  the  dark. 

'"Pest!"  he  says.  "Step  high  and  feel 
low,  Hal.  I've  stumbled  over  guns  be- 
fore." 

*  I  groped,  and  one  by  one — the  tower  was 
pitchy  dark — I  counted  the  lither  barrels  of 
twenty  serpentines  laid  out  on  pease-straw. 
No  conceal  at  all! 

*  "  There's  two  demi-cannon  my  end,  "  says 
Sebastian,  slapping  metal.  "They'll  be  for 
Andrew  Barton's  lower  deck.  Honest — hon- 
est John  Collins!  So  this  is  his  warehouse, 
his  arsenal,  his  armoury!  Now,  see  you  why 
your  pokings  and  pryings  have  raised  the 
Devil  in  Sussex?  You've  hindered  John's 
lawful  trade  for  months,"  and  he  laughed 
where  he  lay. 

'A  clay-cold  tower  is  no  fireside  at  mid- 
night, so  we  climbed  the  belfry  stairs,  and 
there  Sebastian  trips  over  a  cow-hide  with 
its  horns  and  tail. 

'"Aha!  Your  Devil  has  left  his  doublet! 
Does  it  become  me,  Hal?"  He  draws  it  on 
and  capers  in  the  slits  of  window-moonlight 
— won'erful  devilish-like.  Then  he  sits  on  the 
stair,  rapping  with  his  tail  on  a  board,  and 
his  back- aspect  was  dreader  than  his  front; 
and  a  howlet  lit  in,  and  screeched  at  the  horns 
of  him. 

' "  If  you'd  keep  out  the  Devil,  shut  the 
door,"  he  whispered.     "And  that's  another 


2i8  PUCK  OF  POOK'S  HILL 

false  proverb,  Hal,  for  I  can  hear  your  tower- 
door  opening." 

'  "  I  locked  it.  Who  a- plague  has  another 
key,  then?"    I  said. 

* "  All  the  congregation,  to  judge  by  their 
feet,"  he  says,  and  peers  into  the  blackness. 
"  Still !  Still,  Hal  !  Hear  'em  grunt  !  That's 
more  o'  my  sepentines,  I'll  be  bound. 
One — two — three — four  they  bear  in  !  Faith, 
Andrew  equips  himself  like  an  admiral  ! 
Twenty- four  serpentines  in  all  !  " 

'As  if  it  had  been  an  echo,  we  heard  John 
Collins's  voice  come  up  all  hollow:  ''Twenty- 
four  serpentines  and  two  demi-cannon.  That's 
the  full  tally  for  Sir  Andrew  Barton." 

' "  Courtesy  costs  naught,  "  whispers  Se- 
bastian. "  Shall  I  drop  my  dagger  on  his 
head?" 

* "  They  go  over  to  Rye  o'  Thursday  in  the 
woolwains,  hid  under  the  wool  packs.  Dirk 
Brenzett  meets  them  at  Udimore,  as  before," 
says  John. 

'  "  Lord  !  What  a  worn,  handsmooth  trade 
it  is!"  says  Sebastian.  "I  lay  we  are  the 
sole  two  babes  in  the  village  that  have  not 
our  lawful  share  in  the  venture." 

'There  was  a  full  score  folk  below,  talking 
like  all  Robertsbridge  Market.  We  counted 
them  by  voice. 

'  Master  John  Collins  pipes :  "  The  guns 
for  the  French  carrack  must  lie  here  next 
month.  Will,  when  does  your  young  fool 
(me,  so  please  you  I)  come  back  from 
Lunnon?" 

'"No  odds,"  I  heard  Ticehurst  Will  answer. 


HAL  O'  THE  DRAFT  219 

"Lay  'em  just  where  you've  a  mind,  Mus' 
Collins.  We're  all  too  afraid  o'  the  Devil  to 
mell  with  the  tower  now."  And  the  long 
knave  laughed. 

'"Ah!  'tis  easy  enow  for  you  to  raise  the 
Devil,  Will, "  says  another — Ralph  Hobden 
from  the  Forge. 

'"Aaa-men!"  roars  Sebastian,  and  ere  I 
could  hold  him,  he  leaps  down  the  stairs — 
won'erful  devilish-like — howling  no  bounds. 
He  had  scarce  time  to  lay  out  for  the  nearest 
than  they  ran.  Saints,  how  they  ran!  We 
heard  them  pound  on  the  door  of  the  Bell 
Tavern,  and  then  we  ran  too. 

"'What's  next?"  says  Sebastian,  looping 
up  his  cow- tail  as  he  leaped  the  briars.  "I've 
broke  honest  John's  face." 

'"Ride  to  Sir  John  Pelham's,"  I  said. 
"  He  is  the  only  one  that  ever  stood  by  me." 

'  We  rode  to  Brightling,  and  past  Sir  John's 
lodges,  where  the  keepers  would  have  shot  at 
us  for  deer-stealers,  and  we  had  Sir  John 
down  into  his  Justice's  chair,  and  when  we 
had  told  him  our  tale  and  showed  him  the 
cow-hide  which  Sebastian  wore  still  girt  about 
him,  he  laughed  till  the  tears  ran. 

'"Wel-a-well!"  he  says.  "I'll  see  justice 
done  before  daylight.  What's  your  com- 
plaint ?     Master  Collins  is  my  old  friend. ' ' 

'"He's  none  of  mine,"  I  cried.  "When  I 
think  how  he  and  his  likes  have  baulked  and 
dozened  and  cozened  me  at  every  turn  over 

the  church  " and  I  choked  at  the  thought. 

Ah,  but  ye  see  now  they  needed  it  for 
another  use,"  says  he,  smoothly. 


220  PUCK  OF  POOR'S  HILL 

'"So  they  did  my  serpentines,"  Sebastian 
cries.  "  I  should  be  half  across  the  Western 
Ocean  by  this  if  my  guns  had  been  ready. 
But  they're  sold  to  a  Scotch  pirate  by  your 
old  friend." 

"'Where's  your  proof?"  says  Sir  John, 
stroking  his  beard. 

* "  I  broke  my  shins  over  them  not  an  hour 
since,  and  I  heard  John  give  order  where  they 
were  to  be  taken,"  says  Sebastian. 

'"Words!  Words  only,"  says  Sir  John. 
"  Master  Collins  is  somewhat  of  a  liar  at  best." 

'  He  carried  it  so  gravely,  that  for  the  mo- 
ment, I  thought  he  was  dipped  in  this  secret 
traffick  too,  and  that  there  was  not  an  honest 
ironmaster  in  Sussex. 

'"Name  o'  Reason!"  says  Sebastian,  and 
raps  with  his  cow-tail  on  the  table,  "  Whose 
guns  are  they,  then? " 

'  "  Yours,  manifestly,"  says  Sir  John.  "  You 
come  with  the  King's  Order  for  'em,  and 
Master  Collins  casts  them  in  his  foundry.  If 
he  chooses  to  bring  them  up  from  Nether 
Forge  and  lay  'em  out  in  the  church  tower, 
why  they  are  e'en  so  much  the  nearer  to  the 
main  road  and  you  are  saved  a  day's  hauling. 
What  a  coil  to  make  of  a  mere  act  of  neigh- 
bourly kindness,  lad! " 

'  "  I  fear  I  have  requited  him  very  scurvily," 
says  Sebastian,  looking  at  his  knuckles.  "But 
what  of  the  demi-cannon?  I  could  do  with 
'em  well,  but  they  are  not  in  the  King's  Order.  " 

'"Kindness  —  loving -kindness,"  says  Sir 
John.  "  Questionless,  in  his  zeal  for  the  King 
and  his  love  for  you,  John  adds  those  two 


HAL  O'  THE  DRAFT  221 

cannon  as  a  gift.  'Tis  plain  as  this  coming 
daylight,  ye   stockfish!" 

'"So  it  is,"  says  Sebastian.  "Oh,  Sir 
John,  Sir  John,  why  did  you  never  use  the 
sea?  You  are  lost  ashore."  And  he  looked 
on  him  with  great  love. 

'"I  do  my  best  in  my  station."  Sir  John 
strokes  his  beard  again  and  rolls  forth  his 
deep  drumming  Justice's  voice  thus: — "But 
— suffer  me! — you  two  lads,  on  some  midnight 
frolic  into  which  I  probe  not,  roystering 
around  the  taverns,  surprise  Master  Collins 
at  his" — he  thinks  a  moment — "at  his  good 
deeds  done  by  stealth.  Ye  surprise  him,  I 
say,  cruelly." 

' "  Truth,  Sir  John.  If  you  had  seen  him 
run!"  says  vSebastian. 

' "  On  this  you  ride  breakneck  to  me  with 
a  tale  of  pirates,  and  wool-wains,  and  cow- 
hides, which,  though  it  hath  moved  my  mirth 
as  a  man,  offendeth  my  reason  as  a  magistrate. 
So  I  will  e'en  accompany  you  back  to  the 
tower  with,  perhaps,  some  few  of  my  own 
people,  and  three  to  four  wagons,  and  I'll  be 
your  warrant  that  Master  John  Collins  will 
freely  give  you  your  guns  and  your  demi- 
cannon,  Master  Sebastian."  He  breaks  into 
his  proper  voice — "  I  warned  the  old  tod  and 
his  neighbours  long  ago  that  they'd  come 
to  trouble  with  their  side-sellings  and  bye- 
dealings;  but  we  cannot  have  half  Sussex 
hanged  for  a  little  gun-running.  Are  ye 
content,  lads?" 

* "  I'd  commit  any  treason  for  two  demi- 
cannon,"  said  Sebastian,  and  rubs  his  hands. 


222  PUCK  OF  POOR'S  HILL 

* "  Ye  have  just  compounded  with  rank 
treason- felony  for  the  same  bribe,"  says  Sir 
John.  "  Wherefore  to  horse,  and  get  the 
guns.'" 

*  But  Master  Collins  meant  the  guns  for 
Sir  Andrew  Barton  all  along,  didn't  he?'  said 
Dan. 

'  Questionless,  that  he  did,'  said  Hal.  *  But 
he  lost  them.  We  poured  into  the  village  on 
the  red  edge  of  dawn,  Sir  John  horsed,  in  half- 
armour,  his  pennon  liying;  behind  him  thirty 
stout  Brightling  knaves,  five  abreast;  behind 
them  four  wool- wains,  and  behind  them  four 
trumpets  to  triumph  over  the  jest,  blowing: 
Our  King  went  forth  to  Normandie.  When  we 
halted  and  rolled  the  ringing  guns  out  of  the 
tower,  'twas  for  all  the  world  like  Friar  Roger's 
picture  of  the  French  siege  in  the  Queen's 
Missal-book. ' 

'And  what  did  we — I  mean,  what  did  our 
village  do  ? '  said  Dan. 

'Oh!  Bore  it  nobly — nobly,'  cried  Hal. 
'Though  they  had  tricked  me,  I  was  proud 
of  us.  They  came  out  of  their  housen,  looked 
at  that  little  army  as  though  it  had  been  a 
post,  and  went  their  shut-mouthed  way. 
Never  a  sign !  Never  a  word  !  They'd  ha* 
perished  sooner  than  let  Brightling  over- 
crow us.  Even  that  villain,  Ticehurst  Will, 
coming  out  of  the  Bell  for  his  morning  ale, 
he  all  but  ran  under  Sir  John's  horse. 

'"Ware.  Sirrah  Devil!"  cries  Sir  John, 
reining  back. 

'"Oh!"  says  Will.  "Market  day,  is  it? 
And  all  the  bullocks  from  Brightling  here.? " 


HAL  O'  THE  DRAFT  223 

'I  spared  him  his  belting  for  that — the 
brazen  knave  ! 

'But  John  Collins  was  our  masterpiece! 
He  happened  along-street  (his  jaw  tied  up 
where  Sebastian  had  clouted  him)  when  we 
were  trundling  the  first  demi-cannon  through 
the  lych-gate. 

*  "  I  reckon  you'll  find  her  middlin'  heavy," 
he  says.  "  If  you've  a  mind  to  pay,  I'll  loan 
ye  my  timber-tug.  She  won't  lie  easy  on  ary 
wool- wain." 

'  That  was  the  one  time  I  ever  saw  Sebastian 
taken  flat  aback.  He  opened  and  shut  his 
mouth,  fishy-like. 

'  "  No  offence, ' '  says  Master  John.  "  You've 
got  her  reasonable  good  cheap.  I  thought  ye 
might  not  grudge  me  a  groat  if  I  help  move 
her."  Ah,  he  was  a  masterpiece!  They  say 
that  morning's  work  cost  our  John  two 
hundred  pounds,  and  he  never  winked  an 
eyelid,  not  even  when  he  saw  the  guns  all 
carted  off  to  Lewes.' 

*  Neither  then  nor  later? '  said  Puck. 
'Once.     'Twas  after  he  gave  St.  Barnabas 

the  new  chime  of  bells.  (Oh,  there  was 
nothing  the  Collinses,  or  the  Hayes,  or  the 
Fowles,  or  the  Fanners  would  not  do  for  the 
church  then!  "Ask  and  have"  was  their 
song.)  We  had  rung  'em  in,  and  he  was  in 
the  tower  with  Black  Nick  Fowle,  that  gave 
us  our  rood-screen.  The  old  man  pinches 
the  bell-rope  one  hand  and  scratches  his  neck 
with  t'other.  "  Sooner  she  was  pulling  yon 
clapper  than  my  neck, ' '  he  says.  That  was  all ! 
That  was  Sussex — seely  Sussex  for  everlastin' ! ' 


224  PUCK  OF  POOR'S  HILL 

'And  what  happened  after? '  said  Una. 

'I  went  back  into  England,'  said  Hal, 
slowly.  '  I'd  had  my  lesson  against  pride. 
But  they  tell  me  I  left  St,  Bamabas's  a 
jewel — justabout  a  jewel !  Wel-a-well !  'Twas 
done  for  and  among  my  own  people,  and — 
Father  Roger  was  right — I  never  knew  such 
trouble  or  such  triumph  since.  That's  the 
nature  o'  things.  A  dear — dear  land.'  He 
dropped  his  chin  on  his  chest. 

'  There's  your  Father  at  the  Forge.  What's 
he  talking  to  old  Hobden  about  ? '  said  Puck, 
opening  his  hand  with  three  leaves  in  it. 

Dan  looked  towards  the  cottage. 

'Oh,  I  know.  It's  that  old  oak  lying 
across  the  brook.  Pater  always  wants  it 
grubbed.' 

In  the  still  valley  they  could  hear  old  Hob- 
den's  deep  tones. 

'  Have  it  as  you've  a  mind  to, '  he  was  saying. 
'  But  the  vivers  of  her  roots  they  hold  the  bank 
together.  If  you  grub  her  out,  the  bank  she'll 
all  come  tearin'  down,  an'  next  floods  the 
brook'll  swarve  up.  But  have  it  as  you've 
a  mind.  The  mistuss  she  sets  a  heap  by  the 
ferns  on  her  trunk.' 

'Oh!     I'll  think  it  over,'    said  the  Pater. 

Una  laughed  a  little  bubbling  chuckle. 

'What  Devil's  in  that  belfry?'  said  Hal, 
with  a  lazy  laugh.  '  That  should  be  Hobden 
by  his  voice. 

'  Why,  the  oak  is  the  regular  bridge  for  all 
the  rabbits  between  the  Three  Acre  and  our 
meadow.  The  best  place  for  wires  on  the 
farm,  Hobden  says.     He's  got  two  there  now,' 


HAL  O'  THE  DRAFT  225 

Una   answered.     'He   won't    ever   let    it   be 
grubbed ! ' 

'Ah,  Sussex!  Silly  Sussex  for  everlastin',' 
murmured  Hal;  and  the  next  moment  their 
Father's  voice  calling  across  to  Little  Lindens 
broke  the  spell  as  vSt.  Barnabas's  clock  struck 
five. 


SMUGGLERS'  SONG 

//  you  wake  at  midnight,  and  hear  a  horse's  feet, 

Don't  go  drawing  back  the  blind,  or  looking  in 
the  street, 

Them  that  asks  no  questions  isn't  told  a  lie. 

Watch  the  wall,  my  darling,  while  the  Gentle- 
men go  by! 

Five  and  twenty  ponies 

Trotting  through  the  dark; 

Brandy  for  the  Parson, 

'Baccy  for  the  Clerk 

Laces  for  a  lady,  letters  for  a  spy, 

And  watch  the  wall,  my  darling,  while  the 
Gentlemen  go  by  I 

Running  round  the  woodlump  if  you  chance 

to  find 
Little   barrels,    roped   and   tarred,    all   full   of 

brandywined; 
Don't  you  shout  to  come  and  look,  nor  take  'em 

for  your  play; 
Put  the  brishwood  back  again, — and  they'll  be 

gone  next  day  ! 

If  you  see  the  stableyard  setting  open  wide; 
If  you  see  a  tied  horse  lying  down  inside; 
If  your  mother  mends  a  coat  cut  about  and  tore; 
If  the  lining's  wet  and  warm — don' t  you  ask 
no  more  I 

227 


228  PUCK  OF  POOK'S  HILL 

If  you  meet  King  George's  men,  dressed  in  blue 

and  red, 
You  he   careful  what  you  say,    and  mindful 

what  is  said. 
If  they  call  you  '  pretty  maid, '  and  chuck  you 

'neath  the  chin, 
Don't  you  tell  where  no  one  is,  nor  yet  where 

no  one's  been! 

Knocks  and  footsteps  round  the  house — whistles 
after  dark — 

You've  no  call  for  running  out  till  the  house- 
dogs hark. 

Trusty's  here,  and  Pincher's  here,  and  see  how 
dumb  they  lie — 

They  don't  fret  to  follow  when  the  Gentlemen 
go  by! 

If  you  do  as  you've  been  told,  likely  there's  a 

chance. 
You'll  be  give  a  dainty  doll,  all  the  way  from 

France, 
With  a  cap  of  Valenciennes,  and  a  velvet  hood — 
A  present  from  the  Gentlemen,  along  o'  being 

good  ! 

Five  and  twenty  ponies. 
Trotting  through  the  Park — 
Brandy  for  the  Parson, 
'Baccy  for  the  Clerk. 

Them  that  asks  no   questions   isn't  told  a  lie. 
Watch  the  wall,  my  darling,  while  the  Gentle- 
men go  by! 


*DYMCHURCH    FLIT 


THE  BEE  BOY'S  SONG 

Bees!    Bees!     Hark  to  the  Bees! 

'  Hide  from  your  neighbours  as  much  as  you 

please, 
But  all  that  has  happened  to  us  you  must  tell ! 
Or  else  we  will  give  you  no  honey  to  sell. ' 

A  maiden  in  her  glory, 

Upon  her  wedding-day, 
Must  tell  her  Bees  the  story, 
Or  else  they'll  fly  away. 
Fly  away — die  away — 

Dwindle  down  and  leave  you! 
But  if  you  don't  deceive  your  Bees, 
Your  Bees  will  not  deceive  you! — 

Marriage,  birth  or  huryin\ 

News  across  the  seas, 
All  you're  sad  or  merry  in. 
You  must  tell  the  Bees. 
Tell  'em  coming  in  an'  out. 
Where  the  Fanners  fan, 
'Cause  the  Bees  are  justahout 
As  curious  as  a  man  ! 

Don't  you  wait  where  trees  are, 

When  the  lightnings  play; 
Nor  don't  you  hate  where  Bees  are, 
Or  else  they'll  pine  away. 
Pine  away — dwine  away — 

Anything  to  leave  you! 
But  if  you  never  grieve  your  Bees, 
Your  Bees  'II  never  grieve  you. 
231 


*  "Go!"  she  says,  "Go  with  my  Leave  an'  Goodwill."  ' 


See  page  247 


DYMCHURCH    FLIT* 


JUST  at  dusk,  a  soft  September  rain  began 
to  fall  on  the  hop-pickers.  The  mothers 
wheeled  the  bouncing  perambulators  out  of 
the  gardens ;  bins  were  put  away,  and  tally- 
books  made  up.  The  young  couples  strolled 
home,  two  to  each  umbrella,  and  the  single 
men  walked  behind  them  laughing.  Dan  and 
Una,  who  had  been  picking  after  their  lessons, 
marched  off  to  roast  potatoes  at  the  oast- 
house,  where  old  Hobden,  with  Blue- eyed 
Bess,  his  lurcher-dog,  lived  all  the  month 
through,   drying  the  hops. 

They  settled  themselves,  as  usual,  on  the 
sack- strewn  cot  in  front  of  the  fires,  and, 
when  Hobden  drew  up  the  shutter,  stared, 
as  usual,  at  the  flameless  bed  of  coals  spouting 
its  heat  up  the  dark  well  of  the  old-fashioned 
roundel.  Slowly  he  cracked  off  a  few  fresh 
pieces  of  coal,  packed  them,  with  fingers  that 
never  flinched,  exactly  where  they  would  do 
most  good;  slowly  he  reached  behind  him 
till  Dan  tilted  the  potatoes  into  his  iron  scoop 
of  a  hand;  carefully  he  arranged  them  round 
the  fire,  and  then  stood  for  a  moment,  black 
against  the  glare.  As  he  closed  the  shutter, 
the  oast-house  seemed  dark  before  the  day's 
end,  and  he  lit  the  candle  in  the  lanthom. 
The  children  liked  all  these  things  because 
they  knew  them  so  well. 

233 


234  PUCK  OF  POOR'S  HILL 

The  Bee  Boy,  Hobden's  son,  who  is  not 
quite  right  in  his  head,  though  he  can  do  any- 
thing with  bees,  slipped  in  like  a  shadow. 
They  only  guessed  it  when  Bess's  stump-tail 
wagged  against  them. 

A  big  voice  began  singing  outside  in  the 
drizzle : — 

'  Old   Mother   Laidinwool   had  nigh  twelve  months 

been  dead, 
She  heard  the  hops  were  doing  well,  and  then  popped 

up  her  head.' 

'There  can't  be  two  people  made  to  holler 
like  that!'  cried  old  Hobden,  wheeling  round. 

'  For,  says  she,  "The  boys  I've  picked  with  when  I 

was  young  and  fair, 
They're  bound  to  be  at  hoppin',  and  I'm "  ' 

A  man  showed  at  the  doorway. 

'Well,  well!  They  do  say  hoppin'll  draw 
the  very  deadest;  and  now  I  belief t  'em. 
You,  Tom  ?  Tom  Shoesmith  ! '  Hobden 
lowered  his  lanthom. 

'  You're  a  hem  of  a  time  makin'  your  mind 
to  it,  Ralph ! '  The  stranger  strode  in — three 
full  inches  taller  than  Hobden,  a  grey- 
whiskered,  brown-faced  giant  with  clear  blue 
eyes.  They  shook  hands,  and  the  children 
could  hear  the  hard  palms  rasp  together. 

'You  ain't  lost  none  o'  your  grip,'  said 
Hobden.  *  Was  it  thirty  or  forty  year  back 
you  broke  my  head  at  Peasmarsh  Fair?' 

'  Only  thirty,  an'  no  odds  'tween  us  regardin' 
heads,  neither.  You  had  it  back  at  me  with 
a  hop-pole.  How  did  we  get  home  that  night  ? 
Swimmin'  ? ' 


'DYMCHURCH  FLIT'  235 

'  Same  way  the  pheasant  come  into  Gubbs's 
pocket — by  a  little  luck  an'  a  deal  o'  con- 
jurin."  Old  Hobden  laughed  in  his  deep 
chest. 

*I  see  you've  not  forgot  your  way  about 
the  woods.  D'ye  do  any  o'  this  still?'  The 
stranger  pretended  to  look  along  a  gun. 

Hobden  answered  with  a  quick  movement 
of  the  hand  as  though  he  were  pegging  down 
a  rabbit- wire. 

'No.  That's  all  that's  left  me  now.  Age 
she  must  as  Age  she  can.  An'  what's  your 
news  since  all  these  years  ? ' 

'  Oh,  I've  bin  to  Plymouth,  I've  bin  to  Dover — 
I've  bin  ramblin',  boys,  the  wide  world  over,' 

the  man  answered  cheerily.  'I  reckon  I 
know  as  much  of  Old  England  as  most.'  He 
turned  towards  the  children  and  winked 
boldly. 

'I  lay  they  told  you  a  sight  o'  lies,  then. 
I've  been  into  England  fur  as  Wiltsheer  once. 
I  was  cheated  proper  over  a  pair  of  hedging- 
gloves,'  said  Hobden. 

'There's  fancy-talkin'  everywhere.  You've 
cleaved  to  your  own  parts  pretty  middlin' 
close,  Ralph. ' 

'Can't  shift  an  old  tree  'thout  it  dyin',  ' 
Hobden  chuckled.  '  An'  I  be  no  more  anxious 
to  die  than  you  look  to  be  to  help  me  with 
my  hops  to-night.' 

The  great  man  leaned  against  the  brick- 
work of  the  roundel,  and  swung  his  arms 
abroad.  '  Hire  me! '  was  all  he  said,  and  they 
stumped  upstairs  laughing. 


236  PUCK  OF  POOR'S  HILL 

The  children  heard  their  shovels  rasp  on 
the  cloth  where  the  yellow  hops  lie  drying 
above  the  fires,  and  all  the  oast-house  filled 
with  the  sweet,  sleepy  smell  as  they  were 
turned. 

'Who  is  it?'  Una  whispered  to  the  Bee 
Boy. 

'  Dunno,  no  more'n  you — if  you  dunno, ' 
said  he,  and  smiled. 

The  voices  on  the  drying-floor  talked  and 
chuckled  together,  and  the  heavy  footsteps 
went  back  and  forth.  Presently  a  hop- 
pocket  dropped  through  the  press-hole  over- 
head, and  stiffened  and  fattened  as  they 
shovelled  it  full.  *  Clank ! '  went  the  press, 
and  rammed  the  loose  stuff  into  tight  cake. 

'  Gently! '  they  heard  Hobden  cry.  '  You'll 
bust  her  crop  if  you  lay  on  so.  You  be  as 
careless  as  Gleason's  bull,  Tom.  Come  an' 
sit  by  the  fires.     She'll  do  now.' 

They  came  down,  and  as  Hobden  opened 
the  shutter  to  see  if  the  potatoes  were  done 
Tom  Shoesmith  said  to  the  children,  '  Put 
a  plenty  salt  on  'em.  That'll  show  you  the 
sort  o'  man  I  be.'  Again  he  winked,  and 
again  the  Bee  Boy  laughed  and  Una  stared 
at  Dan. 

7  know  what  sort  o'  man  you  be,'  old  Hob- 
den grunted,  groping  for  the  potatoes  round 
the  fire. 

*  Do  ye  ? '  Tom  went  on  behind  his  back. 
'  Some  of  us  can't  abide  Horseshoes,  or  Church 
Bells,  or  Running  Water;  an',  talkin'  o' 
runnin'  water' — he  turned  to  Hobden,  who 
was  backing  out  of  the  roundel — '  d'you  mind 


'DYMCHURCH  FLIT'  237 

the  great  floods  at  Robertsbridge,  when  the 
miller's  man  was  drowned  in  the  street?' 

'Middlin'  well.'  Old  Hobden  let  himself 
down  on  the  coals  by  the  fire  door.  '  I  was 
court  in'  my  woman  on  the  Marsh  that  year. 
Carter  to  Mus'  Plum  I  was  —  gettin'  ten 
shillin's  week.     Mine  was  a  Marsh  woman. ' 

'  Won' erf  ul  odd-gates  place — Romney 
Marsh,'  said  Tom  Shoesmith.  'I've  heard 
say  the  world's  divided  like  into  Europe, 
Ashy,  Afriky,  Ameriky,  Australy,  an'  Romney 
Marsh.' 

'The  Marsh  folk  think  so,'  said  Hobden. 
*  I  had  a  hem  o'  trouble  to  get  my  woman  to 
leave  it,' 

'Where  did  she  come  out  of?  I've  forgot, 
Ralph.' 

Dymchurch  under  the  Wall,'  Hobden  an- 
swered, a  potato  in  his  hand. 

'Then  she'd  be  a  Pett— or  a  Whitgift, 
would  she  ? ' 

'  Whitgift.'  Hobden  broke  open  the  potato 
and  ate  it  with  the  curious  neatness  of  men 
who  make  most  of  their  meals  in  the  blowy 
open.  '  She  growed  to  be  quite  reasonable- 
like  after  livin'  in  the  Weald  awhile,  but 
our  first  twenty  year  or  two  she  was  odd- 
fashioned,  no  bounds.  And  she  was  a  won'er- 
ful  hand  with  bees.'  He  cut  away  a  little 
piece  of  potato  and  threw  it  out  to  the 
door. 

'Ah!  I've  heard  say  the  Whitgifts  could 
see  further  through  a  millstone  than  most,' 
said  Shoesmith.     'Did  she,  now?' 

'She   was   honest-innocent    of    any   nigro- 


238  PUCK  OF  POOK'S  HILL 

mancin','  said  Hobden.  'Only  she'd  read 
signs  and  sinnifications  out  o'  birds  flyin',  stars 
fallin',  bees  hivin',  and  such.  An'  she'd  lie 
awake — listenin'  for  calls,  she  said.' 

*  That  don't  prove  naught,'  said  Tom.  *  All 
Marsh  folk  has  been  smugglers  since  time 
everlastin'.  'Twould  be  in  her  blood  to 
listen  out  o'  nights.* 

*  Nature- ally,'  old  Hobden  replied,  smiling. 
*  I  mind  when  there  was  smugglin'  a  sight 
nearer  us  than  the  Marsh  be.  But  that 
wasn't  my  woman's  trouble.  'Twas  a  passel 
o'  no-sense  talk,'  he  dropped  his  voice,  *  about 
Pharisees. ' 

*  Yes.  I've  heard  Marsh  men  beleft  in  'em.' 
Tom  looked  straight  at  the  wide-eyed  children 
beside  Bess. 

'Pharisees,'  cried  Una.  'Fairies?  Oh,  I 
see ! ' 

'People  o'  the  Hills,' said  the  Bee  Boy, 
throwing  half  of  his  potato  towards  the  door. 

'There  you  be!'  said  Hobden,  pointing  at 
him.  '  My  boy,  he  has  her  eyes  and  her  out- 
gate   senses.      That's   what  she  called  'em!' 

'And  what  did  you  think  of  it  all?' 

'Um — um,'  Hobden  rumbled.  'A  man 
that  uses  fields  an'  shaws  after  dark  as  much 
as  I've  done,  he  don't  go  out  of  his  road 
excep'  for  keepers.' 

'But  settin'  that  aside?'  said  Tom,  coax- 
ingly.  '  r  saw  ye  throw  the  Good  Piece  out-at 
doors  just  now.     Do  ye  believe  or — do  ye?' 

'  There  was  a  great  black  eye  to  that  tater, ' 
said  Hobden,  indignantly. 

'My   liddle   eye   didn't   see   un,    then.     It 


'DYMCHURCH  FLIT'  239 

looked  as  if  you  meant  it  for — for  Any  One 
that  might  need  it.  But  settin'  that  aside. 
D'ye  beheve  or — do  ye?' 

'I  ain't  sayin'  nothin,'  because  I've  heard 
naught,  an'  I've  seen  naught.  But  if  you 
was  to  say  there  was  more  things  after  dark 
in  the  shaws  than  men,  or  fur,  or  feather,  or 
fin,  I  dunno  as  I'd  go  farabout  to  call  you  a 
liar.   Now  turn  again,  Tom.  What's  your  say  ? ' 

'I'm  like  you.  I  say  nothin'.  But  I'll  tell 
you  a  tale,  an'  you  can  fit  it  as  how  you  please. ' 

'Passel  o'  no-sense  stuff,'  growled  Hobden, 
but  he  filled  his  pipe. 

'The  Marsh  men  they  call  'fc  Dymchurch 
Flit,*  Tom  went  on  slowly.  'Hap  you've 
heard  it?' 

'  My  woman  she've  told  it  me  scores  o' 
times.  Dunno  as  I  didn't  end  by  belief t  in'  it 
— sometimes.' 

Hobden  crossed  over  as  he  spoke,  and 
sucked  with  his  pipe  at  the  yellow  lanthorn- 
fiame.  Tom  rested  one  great  elbow  on  one 
great  knee,  where  he  sat  among  the  coal. 

'  Have  you  ever  bin  in  the  Marsh  ? '  he  said 
to  Dan. 

'Only  as  far  as  Rye,  once,'  Dan  answered. 

'Ah,  that's  but  the  edge.  Back  behind  of 
her  there's  steeples  settin'  beside  churches, 
an'  wise  women  settin'  beside  their  doors,  an' 
the  sea  settin'  above  the  land,  an'  ducks 
herdin'  wild  in  the  diks'  (he  meant  ditches). 
'The  Marsh  is  justabout  riddled  with  diks  an' 
sluices,  an'  tide-gates  an'  water-lets.  You 
can  hear  em'  bubblin'  an'  grummelin'  when 
the  tide  works  in  em',  an'  then  you  hear  the 


240  PUCK  OF  POOR'S  HILL 

sea  rangin'  left  and  right-handed  all  up  along 
the  Wall.  You've  seen  how  fiat  she  is — the 
Marsh?  You'd  think  nothin'  easier  than  to 
walk  eend-on  acrost  her?  Ah,  but  the  diks 
an'  the  water-lets,  they  twists  the  roads  about 
as  ravelly  as  witch- yam  on  the  spindles.  So 
ye  get  all  turned  round  in  broad  daylight.' 

*  That's  because  they've  dreened  the  waters 
into  the  diks, '  said  Hobden.  '  When  I  courted 
my  woman  the  rushes  was  green — Eh  me !  the 
rushes  was  green — an'  the  BailifiE  o'  the 
Marshes,  he  rode  up  and  down  as  free  as  the 
fog.' 

'  Who  was  he  ? '  said  Dan. 

*Why,  the  Marsh  fever  an'  ague.  He've 
clapped  me  on  the  shouder  once  or  twice  till 
I  shook  proper.  But  now  the  dreenin'  off 
of  the  waters  have  done  away  with  the  fevers ; 
so  they  make  a  joke,  like,  that  the  Bailiff  o' 
the  Marshes  broke  his  neck  in  a  dik.  A 
won'erful  place  for  bees  an'  ducks  'tis  too.' 

'  An'  old! '  Tom  went  on.  '  Flesh  an'  Blood 
have  been  there  since  Time  Everlastin'  Be- 
yond. Well,  now,  speakin'  among  themselves, 
the  Marshmen  say  that  from  Time  Ever- 
lastin'  Beyond  the  Pharisees  favoured  the 
Marsh  above  the  rest  of  Old  England.  I  lay 
the  Marshmen  ought  to  know.  They've  been 
out  after  dark,  father  an'  son,  smugglin'  some 
one  thing  or  t'other,  since  ever  wool  grew  to 
sheep's  backs.  They  say  there  was  always 
a  middlin'  few  Pharisees  to  be  seen  on  the 
Marsh.  Impident  as  rabbits,  they  was. 
They'd  dance  on  the  nakid  roads  in  the  nakid 
daytime;  they'd  flash  their  liddle  green  lights 


'DYMCHURCH  FLIT'  241 

along  the  diks,  comin'  an'  goin',  like  honest 
smugglers.  Yes,  an'  times  they'd  lock  the 
church  doors  against  parson  an'  clerk  of 
Sundays!  * 

*  That  'ud  be  smugglers  layin'  in  the  lace  or 
the  brandy  till  they  could  run  it  out  o'  the 
Marsh.  I've  told  my  woman  so,*  said  Hob- 
den. 

'  I'll  lay  she  didn't  beleft  it,  then — not  if  she 
was  a  Whitgift.  A  won' erf ul  choice  place 
for  Pharisees,  the  Marsh,  by  all  accounts,  till 
Queen  Bess's  father  he  come  in  with  his 
Reformatories.' 

'Would  that  be  a  Act  o'  Parliament  like?* 
Hobden  asked. 

*  Sure-ly!  'Can't  do  nothing  in  Old  England 
without  Act,  Warrant,  an'  Summons.  He  got 
his  Act  allowed  him,  an',  they  say,  Queen 
Bess's  father  he  used  the  parish  churches 
something  shameful.  Justabout  tore  the  giz- 
zards out  of  I  dunnamany.  Some  folk  in 
England  they  held  with  'en;  but  some  they 
saw  it  different,  an'  it  eended  in  'em  takin' 
sides  an'  bumin'  each  other  no  bounds,  ac- 
cordin'  which  side  was  top,  time  bein.'  That 
tarrified  the  Pharisees:  for  Goodwill  among 
Flesh  an'  Blood  is  meat  an'  drink  to  'em,  an' 
ill-will  is  poison.' 

'Same  as  bees,'  said  the  Bee  Boy.  'Bees 
won't  stay  by  a  house  where  there's  hating.' 

'  True, '  said  Tom.  *  This  Reformations  tar- 
rified the  Pharisees  same  as  the  reaper  goin' 
round  a  last  stand  o'  wheat  tarrifies  rabbits. 
They  packed  into  the  Marsh  from  all  parts, 
and  they  says,  "  Fair  or  foul,  we  must  flit  out 


242  PUCK  OF  POOR'S  HILL 

o'  this,  for  Merry  England's  done  with,  an' 
we're  reckoned  among  the  Images.'" 

'Did  they  all  see  it  that  way?'  said  Hob- 
den. 

'All  but  one  that  was  called  Robin — if 
you've  heard  of  him.  What  are  you  laugh- 
ing at?'  Tom  turned  to  Dan.  'The  Phari- 
sees's  trouble  didn't  tech  Robin,  because  he'd 
cleaved  middlin'  close  to  people  like.  No 
more  he  never  meant  to  go  out  of  Old  England 
— not  he;  so  he  was  sent  messagin'  for  help 
among  Flesh  an'  Blood.  But  Flesh  an' 
Blood  must  always  think  of  their  ow^n  concerns, 
an'  Robin  couldn't  get  through  at  'em,  ye  see. 
They  thought  it  was  tide-echoes  oflE  the 
Marsh.' 

'  What  did  you — what  did  the  fai — Pharisees 
want?'     Una  asked. 

*A  boat  to  be  sure.  Their  liddle  wings 
could  no  more  cross  Channel  than  so  many 
tired  butterflies.  A  boat  an'  a  crew  they 
desired  to  sail  'em  over  to  France,  where  yet 
awhile  folks  hadn't  tore  down  the  Images. 
They  couldn't  abide  cruel  Canterbury  Bells 
ringin'  to  Bulverhithe  for  more  pore  men  an' 
women  to  be  burnded,  nor  the  King's  proud 
messenger  ridin'  through  the  land  givin' 
orders  to  tear  down  the  Images.  They 
couldn't  abide  it  no  shape.  Nor  yet  they 
couldn't  get  their  boat  an'  crew  to  flit  by 
without  Leave  an'  Good-will  from  Flesh  an' 
Blood;  an'  Flesh  an'  Blood  came  an'  went 
about  its  own  business  the  while  the  Marsh 
was  swarvin'  up,  an'  swarvin'  up  with  Phari- 
sees from  all  England  over,  striving  all  means 


'DYMCHURCH  FLIT'  243 

to  get  through  at  Flesh  an'  Blood  to  tell  'en 
their  sore  need,  ...  I  don't  know  as  you've 
ever  heard  say  Pharisees  are  like  chickens?' 

'  My  woman  used  to  say  that  too, '  said 
Hobden,  folding  his  brown  arms. 

'They  be.  You  run  too  many  chickens 
together,  an'  the  ground  sickens  like,  an'  you 
get  a  squat,  an'  your  chickens  die.  'Same 
way,  you  crowd  Pharisees  all  in  one  place — 
they  don't  die,  but  Flesh  an'  Blood  walkin' 
among  'em  is  apt  to  sick  up  an'  pine  off. 
They  don't  mean  it,  an'  Flesh  an'  Blood  don't 
know  it,  but  that's  the  truth — as  I've  heard. 
The  Pharisees  through  bein'  all  stenched  up 
an'  frighted,  an'  tryin'  to  come  through  with 
their  supplications,  they  nature-ally  changed 
the  thin  airs  and  humours  in  Flesh  an'  Blood. 
It  lay  on  the  Marsh  like  thunder.  Men  saw 
their  churches  ablaze  with  the  wildfire  in  the 
windows  after  dark;  they  saw  their  cattle 
scatterin'  and  no  man  scarin';  their  sheep 
flockin'  and  no  man  drivin';  their  horses 
latherin'  an'  no  man  leadin';  they  saw  the 
liddle  low  green  lights  more  than  ever  in  the 
dik-sides ;  they  heard  the  liddle  feet  patterin' 
more  than  ever  round  the  houses;  an'  night 
an'  day,  day  an'  night,  'twas  all  as  though 
they  were  bein'  creeped  up  on,  and  hinted  at 
by  some  One  or  Other  that  couldn't  rightly 
shape  their  trouble.  Oh,  I  lay  they  sweated! 
Man  an'  maid,  woman  an'  child,  their  Nature 
done  'em  no  service  all  the  weeks  while  the 
Marsh  was  swarvin'  up  with  Pharisees.  But 
they  was  Flesh  an'  Blood,  an'  Marsh  men 
before  all.     They  reckoned  the  signs  sinniiied 


244  PUCK  OF  POOR'S  HILL 

trouble  for  the  Marsh.  Or  that  the  sea  'ud 
rear  up  against  Dymchurch  Wall  an'  they'd 
be  drownded  like  Old  Winchelsea;  or  that 
the  Plague  was  comin'.  So  they  looked  for 
the  meanin'  in  the  sea  or  in  the  clouds — far  an' 
high  up.  They  never  thought  to  look  near 
an'  knee-high,  where  they  could  see  naught. 

*  Now  there  was  a  poor  widow  at  Dym- 
church under  the  Wall,  which,  lacking  man 
or  property,  she  had  the  more  time  for  feeling ; 
and  she  come  to  feel  there  was  a  Trouble  out- 
side her  doorstep  bigger  an'  heavier  than 
aught  she'd  ever  carried  over  it.  She  had 
two  sons — one  bom  blind,  and  t'other  struck 
dumb  through  fallin'  off  the  Wall  when  he 
was  liddle.  They  was  men  grown,  but  not 
wage-eamin',  an'  she  worked  for  'em,  keepin* 
bees  and  answerin'  Questions.' 

'What  sort  of  questions?'  said  Dan. 

'Like  where  lost  things  might  be  found, 
an'  what  to  put  about  a  crooked  baby's  neck, 
an'  how  to  join  parted  sweethearts.  She 
felt  the  Trouble  on  the  Marsh  same  as  eels 
feel  thunder.     She  was  a  wise  woman.' 

'  My  woman  was  won'erful  weather-tender, 
too,'  said  Hobden.  'I've  seen  her  brish 
sparks  like  off  an  anvil  out  of  her  hair  in 
thunderstorms.  But  she  never  laid  out  to 
answer  Questions.' 

'  This  woman  was  a  Seeker  like,  an'  Seekers 
they  sometimes  find.  One  night,  while  she 
lay  abed,  hot  an'  aching,  there  come  a  Dream 
an  tapped  at  her  window,  and  "Widow 
Whitgift,"  it  said,  "Widow  Whitgift!" 

'First,  by  the  wings  an'  the  whistling,  she 


'DYMCHURCH  FLIT'  245 

thought  it  was  peewits,  but  last  she  arose  an' 
dressed  herself,  an'  opened  her  door  to  the 
Marsh,  an'  she  felt  the  Trouble  an'  the  Groan- 
ing all  about  her,  strong  as  fever  an'  ague,  an' 
she  calls:    "What  is  it?     Oh,  what  is  it?" 

'Then  'twas  all  like  the  frogs  in  the  diks 
peeping:  then  'twas  all  like  the  reeds  in  the 
diks  clipclapping;  an'  then  the  great  Tide- 
wave  rummelled  along  the  Wall,  an'  she 
couldn't  hear  proper. 

'Three  times  she  called,  an'  three  times 
the  Tide- wave  did  her  down.  But  she  catched 
the  quiet  between,  an'  she  cries  out,  "What 
is  the  Trouble  on  the  Marsh  that's  been 
lying  down  with  my  heart  an'  arising  with 
my  body  this  month  gone?"  She  felt  a 
liddle  hand  lay  hold  on  her  gown-hem, 
an'  she  stooped  to  the  pull  o'  that  liddle  hand.' 

Tom  Shoesmith  spread  his  huge  fist  before 
the  fire  and  smiled  at  it. 

'"Will  the  sea  drown  the  Marsh?"  she 
says.  She  was  a  Marsh-woman  first  an' 
foremost. 

'"No,"  says  the  liddle  voice.  "Sleep 
sound  for  all  o'  that." 

'"Is  the  Plague  comin'  to  the  Marsh?" 
she  says.     Them  was  all  the  ills  she  knowed. 

'"No.  Sleep  sound  for  all  o'  that,"  says 
Robin. 

'  She  turned  about,  half  mindful  to  go  in, 
but  the  liddle  voices  grieved  that  shrill  an' 
sorrowful  she  turns  back,  an'  she  cries:  "If 
it  is  not  a  Trouble  of  Flesh  an'  Blood,  what 
can  I  do?" 

'The  Pharisees  cried  out  upon  her  from 


246  PUCK  OF  POOR'S  HILL 

all  round  to  fetch  them  a  boat  to  sail  to  France, 
an'  come  back  no  more. 

'"There's  a  boat  on  the  Wall,"  she  says, 
"  but  I  can't  push  it  down  to  the  sea,  nor  sail 
it  when  'tis  there." 

'"Lend  us  your  sons,"  says  all  the  Phari- 
sees. "Give  'em  Leave  an'  Good- will  to 
sail  it  for  us.  Mother— O  Mother!" 

'"One's  dumb,  an'  t'other's  blind,"  she 
says.  "But  all  the  dearer  me  for  that;  and 
you'll  lose  them  in  the  big  sea."  The  voices 
justabout  pierced  through  her.  An'  there 
was  children's  voices  too.  She  stood  out  all 
she  could,  but  she  couldn't  rightly  stand 
against  that.  So  she  says:  "If  you  can 
draw  my  sons  for  your  job,  I'll  not  hinder  'em. 
You  can't  ask  no  more  of  a  Mother.  " 

'  She  saw  them  liddle  green  lights  dance 
an'  cross  till  she  was  dizzy;  she  heard  them 
liddle  feet  patterin'  by  the  thousand;  she 
heard  cruel  Canterbury  Bells  ringing  to  Bul- 
verhithe,  an'  she  heard  the  great  Tide-wave 
ranging  along  the  Wall.  That  was  while 
the  Pharisees  was  workin'  a  Dream  to  wake 
her  two  sons  asleep :  an'  while  she  bit  on  her 
fingers  she  saw  them  two  she'd  bore  come  out 
an'  pass  her  with  never  a  word.  She  followed 
*em,  cry  in'  pitiful,  to  the  old  boat  on  the  Wall, 
an'  that  they  took  an'  runned  do^\Ti  to  the 
Sea. 

'When  they'd  stepped  mast  an'  sail  the 
blind  son  speaks  up:  "Mother,  we're  waitin' 
your  Leave  an'  Good- will  to  take  Them  over."  ' 

Tom  Shoesmith  threw  back  his  head  and 
half  shut  his  eyes. 


'  DYMCHURCH  FLIT  '  247 

'  Eh,  me  ! '  he  said.  '  She  was  a  fine,  valiant 
woman,  the  Widow  Whitgift.  She  stood 
twistin'  the  ends  of  her  long  hair  over  her 
fingers,  an'  she  shook  like  a  poplar,  makin' 
up  her  mind.  The  Pharisees  all  about  they 
hushed  their  children  from  cryin'  an'  they 
waited  dumb-still.  She  was  all  their  depen- 
dence. Thout  her  Leave  an'  Goodwill  they 
could  not  pass;  for  she  was  the  Mother.  So 
she  shook  like  a  asp-tree  makin'  up  her  mind. 
'Last  she  drives  the  word  past  her  teeth,  an' 
"Go!"  she  says.  "Go  with  my  Leave  an* 
Goodwill." 

'Then  I  saw — then,  they  say,  she  had  to 
brace  back  same  as  if  she  was  wadin'  in  tide- 
water; for  the  Pharisees  justabout  flowed 
past  her — down  the  beach  to  the  boat,  / 
dunnamany  of  'em — with  their  wives  an' 
children  an'  valooables,  all  escapin'  out  of 
cruel  Old  England.  Silver  you  could  hear 
clinkin',  an'  liddle  bundles  hove  down  dunt 
on  the  bottom-boards,  an'  passels  o'  liddle 
swords  an'  shield's  raklin',  an'  liddle  fingers 
an'  toes  scratchin'  on  the  boatside  to  board 
her  when  the  two  sons  pushed  her  off.  That 
boat  she  sunk  lower  an'  lower,  but  all  the 
Widow  could  see  in  it  was  her  boys  movin' 
hampered-like  to  get  at  the  tackle.  Up  sail 
they  did,  an'  away  they  went,  deep  as  a  Rye 
barge,  away  into  the  off-shore  mistes,  an' 
the  Widow  Whitgift  she  sat  down  and  eased 
her  grief  till  momin'  light.' 

'  I  never  heard  she  was  all  alone, '  said 
Hobden. 

*I  remember  now.     The  one  called  Robin 


248  PUCK  OF  POOR'S  HILL 

he  stayed  with  her,  they  tell.  She  was  all 
too  grievious  to  listen  to  his  promises.' 

'Ah!  She  should  ha'  made  her  bargain 
beforehand.  I  alius  told  my  woman  so!' 
Hobden  cried. 

'No.  She  loaned  her  sons  for  a  pure  love- 
loan,  bein'  as  she  sensed  the  Trouble  on  the 
Marshes,  an'  was  simple  good-willing  to  ease 
it.'  Tom  laughed  softly.  'She  done  that. 
Yes,  she  done  that!  From  Hithe  to  Bul- 
verthithe,  fretty  man  an'  petty  maid,  ailin' 
woman  an'  wailin'  child,  they  took  the  ad- 
vantage of  the  change  in  the  thin  airs  just 
about  as  soon  as  the  Pharisees  flitted.  Folks 
come  out  fresh  an'  shining  all  over  the  Marsh 
like  snails  after  wet.  An'  that  while  the 
Widow  Whitgift  sat  grievin'  on  the  Wall. 
She  might  have  beleft  us — she  might  have 
trusted  her  sons  would  be  sent  back!  She 
fussed,  no  bounds,  when  their  boat  come  in 
after  three  days.' 

'And,  of  course,  the  sons  were  both  quite 
cured?'   said  Una. 

'  No-o.  That  would  have  been  out  o* 
Nature.  She  got  'em  back  as  she  sent  'em. 
The  blind  man  he  hadn't  seen  naught  of  any- 
thing, an'  the  dumb  man  nature-ally,  he 
couldn't  say  aught  of  what  he'd  seen.  I 
reckon  that  was  why  the  Pharisees  pitched 
on  'em  for  the  ferrying  job.' 

'  But  what  did  you — what  did  Robin,  prom- 
ise the  Widow?'  said  Dan. 

'What  did  he  promise,  now?'  Tom  pre- 
tended to  think.  'Wasn't  your  woman  a 
Whitgift,  Ralph?     Didn't  she  say?' 


'DYMCHURCH  FLIT'  249 

*  She  told  me  a  passel  o'  no-sense  stuff  when 
he  was  bom.'  Hobden  pointed  at  his  son. 
'There  was  always  to  be  one  of  'em  that 
could  see  further  into  a  millstone  than  most.' 

*  Me  !  That's  me  ! '  said  the  Bee  Boy  so 
suddenly  that  they  all  laughed. 

'I've  got  it  now!'  cried  Tom,  slapping  his 
knee.  '  So  long  as  Whitgift  blood  lasted, 
Robin  promised  there  would  allers  be  one  o' 
her  stock  that — that  no  Trouble  'ud  lie  on, 
no  Maid  'ud  sigh  on,  no  Night  could  frighten, 
no  Fright  could  harm,  no  Harm  could  make 
sin,  an'  no  Woman  could  make  a  fool.' 

*  Well,  ain't  that  just  me? '  said  the  Bee  Boy, 
where  he  sat  in  the  silver  square  of  the  great 
September  moon  that  was  staring  into  the 
oast-house  door. 

'They  was  the  exact  words  she  told  me 
when  we  first  found  he  wasn't  like  others. 
But  it  beats  me  how  you  known  'em,'  said 
Hobden. 

'Aha!  There's  more  under  my  hat  besides 
hair!*  Tom  laughed  and  stretched  himself. 
'When  I've  seen  these  two  young  folk  home, 
we'll  make  a  night  of  old  days,  Ralph,  with 
passin'  old  tales — eh?  An'  where  might  you 
live? 'he  said,  gravely,  to  Dan.  'An'  do  you 
think  your  Pa  'ud  give  me  a  drink  for  takin' 
you  there.  Missy?' 

They  giggled  so  at  this  that  they  had  to 
run  out.  Tom  picked  them  both  up,  set  one 
on  each  broad  shoulder,  and  tramped  across 
the  ferny  pasture  where  the  cows  puffed 
milky  pi:iffs  at  them  in  the  moonlight. 

'Oh,  Puck!   Puck!    I   guessed   you    right 


250  PUCK  OF  POOR'S  HILL 

from  when  you  talked  about  the  salt.  How 
could  you  ever  do  it?'  Una  cried,  swinging 
along  delighted. 

'  Do  what  ? '  he  said,  and  climbed  the  stile 
by  the  pollard  oak. 

'  Pretend  to  be  Tom  Shoesmith, '  said  Dan, 
and  they  ducked  to  avoid  the  two  little  ashes 
that  grow  by  the  bridge  over  the  brook.  Tom 
was  almost  running. 

'Yes.  That's  my  name,  Mus'  Dan,'  he 
said,  hurrying  over  the  silent  shining  lawn, 
where  a  rabbit  sat  by  the  big  white-thorn 
near  the  croquet  ground.  *  Here  you  be. ' 
He  strode  into  the  old  kitchen  yard,  and  slid 
them  down  as  Ellen  came  to  ask  questions. 

'I'm  helping  in  Mus'  Spray's  oast-house,' 
he  said  to  her.  'No,  I'm  no  foreigner.  I 
knowed  this  country  'fore  your  Mother  was 
bom;  an' — yes  it's  dry  work  oasting.  Miss. 
Thank  you.' 

Ellen  went  to  get  a  jug,  and  the  children 
went  in — magicked  once  more  by  Oak,  Ash, 
and  Thorn ! 


A  THREE-PART  SONG 

Fm  just  in  love  with  all  these  three^ 
The  Weald  and  the  Marsh  and  the  Down  countrie; 
Nor  I  don't  know  which  I  love  the  most, 
The  Weald  or  the  Marsh  or  the  white  chalk 
coast  I 

I've  buried  my  heart  in  a  ferny  hill, 
Twix'  a  liddle  low  Shaw  an'  a  great  high  Gill. 
Oh  hop-vine  yaller  and  woodsmoke  blue, 
I  reckon  you'll  keep  her  middling  true! 

Fve  loosed  my  mind  for  to  out  and  run. 
On  a  Marsh  that  was  old  when  Kings  begun; 
Oh  Romney  Level  and  Brenzett  reeds, 
I  reckon  you  know  what  my  mind  needs  I 

Fve  given  my  soul  to  the  Southdown  grass^ 
And  sheep-bells  tinkled  where  you  pass. 
Oh  Firle  an'  Ditchling  an'  sails  at  sea, 
I  reckon  you'll  keep  my  soul  or  me! 


351 


THE  TREASURE  AND  THE  LAW 


SONG  OF  THE  FIFTH  RIVER 


When  first  by  Eden  Tree, 
The  Four  Great  Rivers  ran, 
To  each  was  appointed  a  Man 
Her  Prince  and  Ruler  to  he. 


But  after  this  was  ordained, 
{The  ancient  legends  tell), 
There  came  dark  Israel, 
For  whom  no  River  remained. 

Then  He  That  is  Wholly  Just, 

Said  to  him:  '  Fling  on  the  ground 

A  handful  of  yellow  dust, 

And  a  Fifth  Great  River  shall  run, 

Mightier  than  these  Four, 

In  secret  the  Earth  around; 

And  Her  secret  evermore, 

Shall  be  shown  to  thee  and  thy  Race.* 

So  it  was  said  and  done. 
And,  deep  in  the  veins  of  Earth, 
And,  fed  by  a  thousand  springs 
That  comfort  the  market-place, 
Or  sap  the  power  of  Kings, 
The  Fifth  Great  River  had  birth. 
Even  as  it  was  foretold — 
The  Secret  River  of  Gold! 

255 


256  PUCK  OF  POOK'S  HILL 

And  Israel  laid  down 
His  sceptre  and  his  crown, 
Jo  brood  on  that  River  bank, 
Where  the  waters  flashed  and  sank, 
And  burrowed  in  earth  and  jell, 
And  bided  a  season  below; 
For  reason  that  none  might  know. 
Save  only  Israel. 

He  is  Lord  of  the  Last — 

The  Fifth,  most  wonderful,  Flood. 

He  hears  her  thunder  past 

And  Her  Song  is  in  his  blood. 

He  can  joresay :   '  She  will  fall, ' 

For  he  knows  which  fountain  dries. 

Behind  which  desert  belt 

A  thousand  leagues  to  the  S 01.1th. 

He  can  foresay:  'She  will  rise.' 

He  knows  what  far  snows  melt; 

Along  what  mountain  wall 

A  thousand  leagues  to  the  North. 

He  snuffs  the  coming  drouth 

As  he  snuffs  the  coming  rain. 

He  knows  what  each  will  bring  forth 

And  turns  it  to  his  gain. 

A  Prince  without  a  Sword, 

A  Ruler  without  a  Throne; 

Israel  follows  his  quest: — 

In  every  land  a  guest. 

Of  many  lands  the  lord. 

In  no  land  King  is  he. 

But  the  Fifth  Great  River  keeps 

Th  e  secret  of  her  deeps 

For  Israel  alone, 

As  it  was  ordered  to  be. 


THE  TREASURE  AND  THE  LAW 

NOW  it  was  the  third  week  in  November, 
and  the  woods  rang  with  the  noise  of 
pheasant-shooting.  No  one  hunted  that  steep, 
cramped  country  except  the  village  beagles, 
who,  as  often  as  not,  escaped  from  their  ken- 
nels and  made  a  day  of  their  own.  Dan  and 
Una  found  a  couple  of  them  towling  round  the 
kitchen-garden  after  the  laundry  cat.  The 
little  brutes  were  only  too  pleased  to  go 
rabbiting,  so  the  children  ran  them  all  along 
the  brook  pastures  and  into  Little  Lindens 
farm-yard,  where  the  old  sow  vanquished 
them — and  up  to  the  quarry-hole,  where  they 
started  a  fox.  He  headed  for  Far  Wood,  and 
there  they  frightened  out  all  the  pheasants 
who  were  sheltering  from  a  big  beat  across 
the  valley.  Then  the  cruel  guns  began  again, 
and  they  grabbed  the  beagles  lest  they  should 
stray  and  get  hurt. 

'  I  wouldn't  be  a  pheasant — in  November — 
for  a  lot,'  Dan  panted,  as  he  caught  Folly  by 
the  neck.  'Why  did  you  laugh  that  horrid 
way?' 

'I  didn't,'  said  Una,  sitting  on  Flora,  the 
fat  lady-dog.  '  Oh,  look !  The  silly  birds 
are  going  back  to  their  own  woods  instead  of 
ours,  where  they  would  be  safe.' 

'Safe  till  it  pleased  you  to  kill  them.'  An 
old  man,  so  tall  he  was  almost  a  giant,  stepped 

257 


258  PUCK  OF  POOK'S  HILL 

from  behind  the  clump  of  hollies  by '  Volaterrae. ' 
The  children  jumped,  and  the  dogs  dropped 
like  setters.  He  wore  a  sweeping  gown  of 
dark  thick  stuff,  lined  and  edged  with  yellow- 
ish fur,  and  he  bowed  a  bent-down  bow  that 
made  them  feel  both  proud  and  ashamed. 
Then  he  looked  at  them  steadily,  and  they 
stared  back  without  doubt  or  fear. 

*  You  are  not  afraid  ? '  he  said,  running  his 
hands  through  his  splendid  grey  beard.  '  Not 
afraid  that  those  men  yonder' — he  jerked 
his  head  towards  the  incessant  pop-pop  of 
the  guns  from  the  lower  woods — '  will  do 
you  hurt?' 

'We-eir — Dan  liked  to  be  accurate,  espe- 
cially when  he  was  shy — 'old  Hobd — a  friend 
of  mine  told  me  that  one  of  the  beaters  got 
peppered  last  week — hit  in  the  leg,  I  mean. 
You  see,  Mr.  Meyer  will  fire  at  rabbits.  But 
he  gave  Waxy  Gamett  a  quid — sovereign, 
I  mean — and  Waxy  told  Hobden  he'd  have 
stood  both  barrels  for  half  the  money.' 

'He  doesn't  understand,'  Una  cried,  watch- 
ing the  pale,  troubled  face.     '  Oh,  I  wish ' 

She  had  scarcely  said  it  when  Puck  i-ustled 
out  of  the  hollies  and  spoke  to  the  man  quickly 
in  foreign  words.  Puck  wore  a  long  cloak 
too — the  afternoon  was  just  frosting  down — 
and  it  changed  his  appearance  altogether. 

*  Nay,  nay ! '  he  said  at  last.  '  You  did  not 
understand  the  boy.  A  freeman  was  a  little 
hurt,  by  pure  mischance,  at  the  hunting.' 

'  I  know  that  mischance !  What  did  his 
Lord  do?  Laugh  and  ride  over  him?'  the 
old  man  sneered. 


THE  TREASURE  AND  THE  LAW    259 

'  It  was  one  of  your  own  people  did  the  hurt, 
Kadmiel.'  Puck's  eyes  twinkled  maliciously. 
'  So  he  gave  the  freeman  a  piece  of  gold,  and 
no  more  was  said.' 

'A  Jew  drew  blood  from  a  Christian  and 
no  more  was  said  ? '  Kadmiel  cried.  *  Never ! 
When  did  they  torture  him?' 

'  No  man  may  be  bound,  or  fined,  or  slain 
till  he  has  been  judged  by  his  peers,'  Puck 
insisted.  'There  is  but  one  Law  in  Old  Eng- 
land for  Jew  or  Christian — -the  Law  that  was 
signed  at  Runnymede.' 

'Why,  that's  Magna  Charta!'  Dan  whis- 
pered. It  was  one  of  the  few  history  dates 
that  he  could  remember.  Kadmiel  turned 
on  him  with  a  sweep  and  a  whirr  of  his  spicy- 
scented   gown. 

'Dost  thou  know  of  that,  babe?'  he  cried, 
and  lifted  his  hands  in  wonder. 

'  Yes, '  said  Dan,  firmly. 

'  Magna  Charta  was  signed  by  John, 
That  Henry  the  Third  put  his  heel  upon. 

And  old  Hobden  says  that  if  it  hadn't  been 
for  her  (he  calls  everything  "  her,"  you  know), 
the  keepers  would  have  him  clapped  in  Lewes 
Gaol  all  the  year  round.' 

Again  Puck  translated  to  Kadmiel  in  the 
strange,  solemn-sounding  language,  and  at 
last  Kadmiel  laughed. 

'  Out  of  the  mouths  of  babes  do  we  learn, ' 
said  he.  '  But  tell  me  now,  and  I  will  not 
call  you  a  babe  but  a  Rabbi,  why  did  the 
King  sign  the  roll  of  the  New  Law  at  Runny- 
mede ?     For  he  v\^as  a  King. ' 


26o  PUCK  OF  POOR'S  HILL 

Dan  looked  sideways  at  his  sister.  It  was 
her  turn. 

'Because  he  jolly  well  had  to,'  asid  Una, 
softly.     *  The  Barons  made  him.' 

*  Nay,'  Kadmiel  answered,  shaking  his  head. 
'You  Christians  always  forget  that  gold  does 
more  than  the  sword.  Our  good  King  signed 
because  he  could  not  borrow  more  money 
from  us  bad  Jews.'  He  curved  his  shoulders 
as  he  spoke.  *A  King  without  gold  is  a 
snake  with  a  broken  back,  and' — his  nose 
sneered  up  and  his  eyebrows  frowned  down — 
'  it  is  a  good  deed  to  break  a  snake's  back. 
That  was  my  work,'  he  cried,  triumphantly, 
to  Puck.  '  Spirit  of  Earth,  bear  witness  that 
that  was  my  work!'  He  shot  up  to  his  fuU 
towering  height,  and  his  words  rang  like  a 
trumpet.  He  had  a  voice  that  changed  its 
tone  almost  as  an  opal  changes  colour — 
sometimes  deep  and  thundery,  sometimes 
thin  and  waily,  but  always  it  made  you 
listen. 

'Many  people  can  bear  witness  to  that,' 
Puck  answered.  'Tell  these  babes  how  it 
was  done.  Remember,  Master,  they  do  not 
know  Doubt  or  Fear.' 

'  So  I  saw  in  their  faces  when  we  met, '  said 
Kadmiel.  *  Yet  surely,  surely  they  are  taught 
to  spit  upon  Jews  ? ' 

'Are  they?'  said  Dan,  much  interested. 
'Where  at?' 

Puck  fell  back  a  pace,  laughing.  '  Kadmiel 
is  thinking  of  King  John's  reign,'  he  ex- 
plained. '  His  people  were  badly  treated 
then.' 


THE  TREASURE  AND  THE  LAW    261 

'Oh,  we  know  that,'  they  answered,  and 
(it  was  very  rude  of  them,  but  they  could  not 
help  it)  they  stared  straight  at  Kadmiel's 
mouth  to  see  if  his  teeth  were  all  there.  It 
stuck  in  their  lesson-memory  that  King  John 
used  to  pull  out  Jews'  teeth  to  make  them 
lend  him  money. 

Kadmiel  understood  the  look  and  smiled 
bitterly. 

'  No.  Your  King  never  drew  my  teeth :  I 
think,  perhaps,  I  drew  his.  Listen !  I  was 
not  bom  among  Christians,  but  among  Moors 
— in  Spain — in  a  little  white  town  under  the 
mountains.  Yes,  the  Moors  are  cruel,  but 
at  least  their  learned  men  dare  to  think.  It 
was  prophesied  of  me  at  my  birth  that  I 
should  be  a  Lawgiver  to  a  People  of  a  strange 
speech  and  a  hard  language.  We  Jews  are 
always  looking  for  the  Prince  and  the  Law- 
giver to  come.  Why  not  ?  My  people  in  the 
town  (we  were  very  few)  set  me  apart  as  a 
child  of  the  prophecy — the  Chosen  of  the 
Chosen.  We  Jews  dream  so  many  dreams. 
You  would  never  guess  it  to  see  us  slink  about 
the  rubbish-heaps  in  our  quarter;  but  at  the 
day's  end — doors  shut,  candles  lit — aha  !  then 
we  become  the  Chosen  again. ' 

He  paced  back  and  forth  through  the  wood 
as  he  talked.  The  rattle  of  the  shot-guns 
never  ceased,  and  the  dogs  whimpered  a  little 
and  lay  flat  on  the  leaves. 

*  I  was  a  Prince.  Yes !  Think  of  a  little 
Prince  who  had  never  known  rough  words  in 
his  own  house  handed  over  to  shouting, 
bearded    Rabbis,    who    pulled    his    ears  and 


262  PUCK  OF  POOK'S  HILL 

filliped  his  nose,  all  that  he  might  learn — learn 
— learn  to  be  King  when  his  time  came.     He! 
Such  a  little  Prince  it  was  !     One  eye  he  kept 
on  the  stone-throwing  Moorish  boys,  and  the 
other  it  roved  about  the  streets  looking  for  his 
Kingdom.     Yes,  and  he  learned  to  cry  softly 
when  he  was  hunted  up  and  down  those  streets. 
He  learned  to  do  all  things  without  noise. 
He  played  beneath  his  father's  table  when  the 
Great  Candle  was  lit,  and  he  listened  as  chil- 
dren listen  to  the  talk  of  hio  father's  friends 
above  the  table.     They  came  across  the  moun- 
tains, from  out  of  all  the  world;  for  my  Prince's 
father  was  their  councillor.     They  came  from 
behind    the    armies    of    Sala-ud-Din:     from 
Rome:    from  Venice:    from  England.     They 
stole  down  our  alley,  they  tapped  secretly  at 
our  door,  they  took  off  their  rags,  they  ar- 
rayed  themselves,    and   they   talked   to   my 
father  at  the  wine.     All  over  the  world  the 
heathen   fought   each   other.     They   brought 
news  of  these  wars,  and  while  he  pla3^ed  be- 
neath the  table,  my  Prince  heard  these  meanly- 
dressed  ones  decide  between  themselves  how, 
and  when,  and  for  how  long  King  should  draw 
sword  against  King,  and  People  rise  up  against 
People.     Why  not?     There  can   be    no   w^ar 
without  gold,   and  we  Jews  know  how  the 
earth's  gold  moves  with  the  seasons,  and  the 
crops,  and  the  winds;  circling  and  looping  and 
rising  and  sinking  away  like  a  river — a  won- 
derful underground  river.     How  should  the 
foolish  Kings  know  that  w^hile  they  fight  and 
steal  and  kill?' 

The  children's  faces  showed  that  they  knew 


THE  TREASURE  AND  THE  LAW    263 

nothing  at  all  as,  with  open  eyes,  they 
trotted  and  turned  beside  the  long-striding 
old  man.  He  twitched  his  gown  over  his 
shoulders,  and  a  square  plate  of  gold,  studded 
with  jewels,  gleamed  for  an  instant  through 
the  fur,  like  a  star  through  flying  snow. 

'  No  matter, '  he  said.  '  But,  credit  me,  my 
Prince  saw  peace  or  war  decided  not  once, 
but  many  times,  by  the  fall  of  a  coin  spun 
between  a  Jew  from  Bury  and  a  Jewess  from 
Alexandria,  in  his  father's  house,  when  the 
Great  Candle  was  lit.  Such  power  had  we 
Jews  among  the  Gentiles.  Ah,  my  little 
Prince !  Do  you  wonder  that  he  learned 
quickly?  Why  not?'  He  muttered  to  him- 
self and  went  on: — 

'  My  trade  was  that  of  a  physician.  When 
I  had  learned  it  in  Spain  I  went  to  the  East 
to  find  my  Kingdom.  Why  not?  A  Jew  is 
as  free  as  a  sparrow — or  a  dog.  He  goes 
where  he  is  hunted.  In  the  East  I  found 
libraries  where  men  dared  to  think — schools 
of  medicine  where  they  dared  to  learn.  I 
was  diligent  in  my  business.  Therefore  I 
stood  before  Kings.  I  have  been  a  brother 
to  Princes  and  a  companion  to  beggars,  and 
I  have  walked  between  the  living  and  the 
dead.  There  was  no  profit  in  it.  I  did  not 
find  my  Kingdom.  So,  in  the  tenth  year  of 
my  travels,  when  I  had  reached  the  Utter- 
most Eastern  Sea,  I  returned  to  my  father's 
house.  God  had  wonderfully  preserved  my 
people.  None  had  been  slain,  none  even 
wounded,  and  only  a  few  scourged.  I  be- 
came once  more  a  son  in  mv  father's  house. 


264  PUCK  OF  POOR'S  HILL 

Again  the  Great  Candle  was  lit;  again  the 
meanly-apparelled  ones  tapped  on  our  door 
after  dusk ;  and  again  I  heard  them  weigh  out 
peace  and  war,  as  they  weighed  out  the  gold 
on  the  table.  But  I  was  not  rich — not  very 
rich.  Therefore,  when  those  that  had  power 
and  knowledge  and  wealth  talked  together, 
I  sat  in  the  shadow.     Why  not  ? 

*  Yet  all  my  wanderings  had  shown  me  one 
sure  thing,  which  is,  that  a  King  without 
money  is  like  a  spear  without  a  head.  He 
cannot  do  much  harni.  I  said,  therefore, 
to  Elias  of  Bury,  a  great  one  among  our  people: 
"  Why  do  our  people  lend  any  more  to  the 
Kings  that  oppress  us?"  "Because,"  said 
Elias,  "if  we  refuse  they  stir  up  their  people 
against  us,  and  the  People  are  tenfold  more 
cruel  than  Kings.  If  thou  doubtest,  come 
with  me  to  Bury  in  England  and  live  as  I 
live." 

'  I  saw  my  mother's  face  across  the  candle- 
flame,  and  I  said,  "  I  will  come  with  thee  to 
Bury.     Maybe  my  Kingdom  shall  be  there." 

'  So  I  sailed  with  Elias  to  the  darkness  and 
the  cruelty  of  Bury  in  England,  where  there 
are  no  learned  men.  How  can  a  man  be  wise 
if  he  hate?  At  Bury  I  kept  his  accounts  for 
Elias,  and  I  saw  men  kill  Jews  there  by  the 
tower.  No — none  laid  hands  on  Elias.  He 
lent  money  to  the  King,  and  the  King's 
favour  was  about  him.  A  King  will  not  take 
the  life  so  long  as  there  is  any  gold.  This 
King — yes,  John — oppressed  his  people  bit- 
terly because  they  would  not  give  him  money. 
Yet  his  land  was  a  good  land.     If  he  had  only 


THE  TREASURE  AND  THE  LAW  265 

given  it  rest  he  might  have  cropped  it  as  a 
Christian  crops  his  beard.  But  even  that 
Httle  he  did  not  know;  for  God  had  deprived 
him  of  all  understanding,  and  had  multiplied 
pestilence,  and  famine,  and  despair  upon  the 
people.  Therefore  his  people  turned  against 
us  Jews,  who  are  all  people's  dogs.  Why  not? 
Lastly  the  Barons  and  the  people  rose  to- 
gether against  the  King  because  of  his  cruel- 
ties. Nay — nay — the  Barons  did  not  love 
the  people,  but  they  saw  that  if  the  King  eat 
up  and  destroyed  the  common  people,  he 
would  presently  destroy  the  Barons.  They 
joined  then,  as  cats  and  pigs  will  join  to  slay  a 
snake.  I  kept  the  accounts,  and  I  watched  all 
these  things,  for  I  remembered  the  Prophecy. 

'A  great  gathering  of  Barons  (to  most  of 
whom  we  had  lent  money)  came  to  Bury,  and 
there,  after  much  talk  and  a  thousand  run- 
nings-about,  they  made  a  roll  of  the  New 
Laws  that  they  would  force  on  the  King.  If 
he  swore  to  keep  those  Laws,  they  would  allow 
him  a  little  money.  That  was  the  King's 
God — Money — to  waste.  They  showed  us 
the  roll  of  the  New  Laws.  Why  not?  We 
had  lent  them  money.  We  knew  all  their 
counsels — we  Jews  shivering  behind  our  doors 
in  Bury.'  He  threw  out  his  hands  suddenly. 
*  We  did  not  seek  to  be  paid  all  in  money.  We 
sought  Power — Power — Power  !  That  is  our 
God  in  our  captivity.     Power  to  use! 

*I  said  to  Elias:  "These  New  Laws  are 
good.  Lend  no  more  money  to  the  King:  so 
long  as  he  has  money  he  will  lie  and  slay 
the  people." 


266  PUCK  OF  POOK'S  HILL 

'"Nay,"  said  Elias.  "I  know  this  people. 
They  are  madly  cruel.  Better  one  King  than 
a  thousand  butchers.  I  have  lent  a  little 
money  to  the  Barons,  or  they  would  torture  us, 
but  my  most  I  will  lend  to  the  King.  He 
hath  promised  me  a  place  near  him  at  Court, 
where  my  wife  and  I  shall  be  safe." 

* "  But  if  the  King  be  made  to  keep  these 
New  Laws,"  I  said,  "  the  land  will  have  peace, 
and  our  trade  will  grow.  If  we  lend  he  will 
fight  again." 

*  "  Who  made  thee  a  Lawgiver  in  England  ? " 
said  Elias.  "I  know  this  people.  Let  the 
dogs  tear  one  another  !  I  will  lend  the  King 
ten  thousand  pieces  of  gold,  and  he  can  fight 
the  Barons  at  his  pleasure." 

* "  There  are  not  two  thousand  pieces  of 
gold  in  all  England  this  summer,"  I  said,  for 
I  kept  the  accounts,  and  I  knew  how  the 
earth's  gold  moved — that  wonderful  under- 
ground river!  Elias  barred  home  the  windows, 
and,  his  hands  about  his  mouth,  he  told  me 
how,  when  he  was  trading  with  small  wares 
in  a  French  ship,  he  had  come  to  the  Castle 
of  Pevensey.' 

*0h!'  said  Dan.  'Pevensey  again!'  and 
looked  at  Una,  who  nodded  and  skipped. 

'  There,  after  they  had  scattered  his  pack  up 
and  down  the  Great  Hall,  some  young  knights 
carried  him  to  an  upper  room,  and  dropped 
him  into  a  well  in  a  wall,  that  rose  and  fell 
with  the  tide.  They  called  him  Joseph,  and 
threw  torches  at  his  wet  head.     Why  not?' 

'Why,  of  course,'  cried  Dan.  'Didn't  you 
know  it  was '  Puck  held  up  his  hand  to 


THE  TREASURE  OF  THE  LAW      267 

stop  him,  and  Kadmiel,  who  never  noticed, 
went  on. 

'When  the  tide  dropped  he  thought  he 
stood  on  old  armour,  but  feehng  with  his  toes, 
he  raked  up  bar  on  bar  of  soft  gold.  Some 
wicked  treasure  of  the  old  days  put  away, 
and  the  secret  cut  off  by  the  sword.  I  have 
heard  the  like  before.' 

'So  have  we,'  Una  whispered.  'But  it 
wasn't  wicked  a  bit.' 

'  Elias  took  a  morsel  of  the  stuff  with  him, 
and  thrice  yearly  he  would  return  to  Pevensey 
as  a  chapman,  selling  at  no  price  or  profit,  till 
they  suffered  him  to  sleep  in  the  empty  room-, 
where  he  would  plumb  and  grope,  and  steal 
away  a  few  bars.  The  great  store  of  it  still 
remained,  and  by  long  brooding  he  had  come 
to  look  on  it  as  his  own.  Yet  when  we  thought 
how  we  should  lift  and  convey  it,  we  saw  no 
way.  This  was  before  the  Word  of  the  Lord 
had  come  to  me.  A  walled  fortress  pos- 
sessed by  Normans;  in  the  midst  a  forty- 
foot  tide- well  out  of  which  to  remove  secretly 
many  horse-loads  of  gold!  Hopeless!  So 
Elias  wept.  Adah,  his  wife,  wept  too.  She 
had  hoped  to  stand  beside  the  Queen's  Chris- 
tian tiring-maids  at  Court,  when  the  King 
should  give  them  that  place  at  Court  which  he 
had  promised.  Why  not?  She  was  bom  in 
England — an  odious  woman. 

'The  present  evil  to  us  was  that  Elias,  out 
of  his  strong  folly,  had,  as  it  were,  promised  the 
King  that  he  would  arm  him  with  more  gold. 
Wherefore  the  King  in  his  camp  stopped  his 
ears    against    the    Barons    and    the    people. 


268  PUCK  OF  POOR'S  HILL 

Wherefore  men  died  daily.  Adah  so  desired 
her  place  at  Court,  she  besought  Elias  to  tell 
the  King  where  the  treasure  lay,  that  the 
King  might  take  it  by  force,  and — they  would 
trust  in  his  gratitude.  Why  not  ?  This  Elias 
refused  to  do,  for  he  looked  on  the  gold  as  his 
own.  They  quarrelled,  and  they  wept  at  the 
evening  meal,  and  late  in  the  night  came  one 
Langton — a  priest,  almost  learned — to  bor- 
row more  money  for  the  Barons.  Elias  and 
Adah  went  to  their  chamber.' 

Kadmiel  laughed  scornfully  in  his  beard. 
The  shots  across  the  valley  stopped  as  the 
shooting-party  changed  their  ground  for  the 
last  beat. 

'  So  it  was  I,  not  Elias,'  he  went  on,  quietly, 
'that  made  terms  with  Langton  touching 
the  fortieth  of  the  New  Laws.' 

'What  terms?'  said  Puck,  quickly.  'The 
Fortieth  of  the  Great  Charter  say :  "To 
none  will  we  sell,  refuse,  or  deny  right  or 
justice."  ' 

'True,  but  the  Barons  had  written  first: 
To  no  free  man.  It  cost  me  two  hundred 
broad  pieces  of  gold  to  change  those  narrow 
words.  Langton,  the  priest,  understood.  "Jew 
though  thou  art,"  said  he,  "the  change  is 
just,  and  if  ever  Christian  and  Jew  come  to 
be  equal  in  England  thy  people  may  thank 
thee."  Then  he  went  out  stealthily,  as  men 
do  who  deal  with  Israel  b /night.  I  think  he 
spent  my  gift  upon  his  altar.  Why  not?  I 
have  spoken  with  Langton.  He  was  such  a  man 
as  I  might  have  been  if — if  we  Jews  had  been 
a  people.     But  yet,  in  many  things,  a  child. 


THE  TREASURE  AND  THE  LAW    269 

'  I  heard  Elias  and  Adah  abovestairs  quarrel, 
and,  knowing  the  woman  was  the  stronger,  I 
saw  that  Ehas  would  tell  the  King  of  the  gold 
and  that  the  King  would  continue  in  his 
stubbomess.  Therefore  I  saw  that  the  gold 
must  be  put  away  from  the  reach  of  any  man. 
Of  a  sudden,  the  Word  of  the  Lord  came  to 
me  saying,  "The  Morning  is  come,  O  thou 
that  dwellest  in  the  land." ' 

Kadmiel  halted,  all  black  against  the  pale 
green  sky  beyond  the  wood — a  huge  robed 
figure,   like  the   Moses   in  the  picture-Bible. 

'  I  rose.  I  went  out,  and  as  I  shut  the  door 
on  that  House  of  Foolishness,  the  woman 
looked  from  the  window  and  whispered,  "  I 
have  prevailed  on  my  husband  to  tell  the 
King ! "  I  answered,  "  There  is  no  need. 
The  Lord  is  with  me." 

*  In  that  hour  the  Lord  gave  me  full  under- 
standing of  all  that  I  must  do;  and  His  Hand 
covered  me  in  my  ways.  First  I  went  to 
London,  to  a  physician  of  our  people,  who 
sold  me  certain  drugs  that  I  needed.  You 
shall  see  why.  Thence  I  went  swiftly  to 
Pevensey.  Men  fought  all  around  me,  for 
there  were  neither  rulers  nor  judges  in  the 
abominable  land.  Yet  when  I  walked  by 
them  they  cried  out  that  I  was  one  Ahasuerus, 
a  Jew,  condemned,  as  they  believe,  to  live  for 
ever,  and  they  fled  from  me  every  ways.  Thus 
the  Lord  saved  me  for  my  work,  and  at 
Pevensey  I  bought  me  a  little  boat  and  moored 
it  on  the  mud  beneath  the  Marsh-gate  of  the 
Castle.     That  also  God  showed  me.' 

He  was  as  calm  as  though  he  were  speaking 


270  PUCK  OF  POOK'S  HILL 

of  some  stranger,  and  his  voice  filled  the  little 
bare  wood  with  rolling  music. 

'  I  cast ' — his  hand  went  to  his  breast,  and 
again  the  strange  jewel  gleamed — '  I  cast  the 
drugs  which  I  had  prepared  into  the  common 
well  of  the  Castle.  Nay,  I  did  no  harm.  The 
more  we  physicians  know,  the  less  do  we  do. 
Only  the  fool  says:  "I  dare."  I  caused  a 
blotched  and  itching  rash  to  break  out  upon 
their  skins,  but  I  knew  it  would  fade  in  fifteen 
days.  I  did  not  stretch  out  my  hand  against 
their  life.  They  in  the  Castle  thought  it  was 
the  Plague,  and  they  ran  forth,  taking  with 
them  their  very  dogs. 

'  A  Christian  physician,  seeing  that  I  was  a 
Jew  and  a  stranger,  vowed  that  I  had  brought 
the  sickness  from  London.  This  is  the  one 
time  I  have  ever  heard  a  Christian  leech  speak 
truth  of  any  disease.  Thereupon  the  people 
beat  me,  but  a  merciful  woman  said:  "Do 
not  kill  him  now.  Push  him  into  our  Castle 
with  his  plague,  and  if,  as  he  says,  it  will  abate 
on  the  fifteenth  day,  we  can  kill  him  then." 
Why  not?  They  drove  me  across  the  draw- 
bridge of  the  Castle,  and  fled  back  to  their 
booths.  Thus  I  came  to  be  alone  with  the 
treasure. ' 

'  But  did  you  know  this  was  all  going  to 
happen  just  right?'  said  Una. 

'  My  Prophecy  was  that  I  should  be  a  Law- 
giver to  a  People  of  a  strange  land  and  a  hard 
speech.  I  knew  I  should  not  die.  I  washed 
my  cuts.  I  found  the  tide-well  in  the  wall, 
and  from  Sabbath  to  Sabbath  I  dove  and 
dug  there  in  that  empty,  Christian-smelling 


THE  TREASURE  AND  THE  LAW    271 

fortress.  He  !  I  spoiled  the  Egyptians  !  He  ! 
If  they  had  only  known !  I  drew  up  many 
good  loads  of  gold,  which  I  loaded  by  night 
into  my  boat.  There  had  been  gold-dust  too, 
but  that  had  been  washed  away  by  the  tides.' 

'Didn't  you  ever  wonder  who  had  put  it 
there?'  said  Dan,  stealing  a  glance  at  Puck's 
calm,  dark  face  under  the  hood  of  his  gown. 
Puck  shook  his  head  and  pursed  his  lips. 

'Often;  for  the  gold  was  new  to  me,'  Kad- 
miel  replied.  '  I  know  the  Golds.  I  can 
judge  them  in  the  dark;  but  this  was  heavier 
and  redder  than  any  we  deal  in.  Perhaps 
it  was  the  very  gold  of  Parvaim.  Eh,  why 
not?  It  went  to  my  heart  to  heave  it  on  to 
the  mud,  but  I  saw  well  that  if  the  evil  thing 
remained,  or  if  even  the  hope  of  finding  it 
remained,  the  King  would  not  sign  the  New 
Laws,  and  the  land  would  perish.' 

'  Oh,  Marvel ! '  said  Puck,  beneath  his  breath, 
rustling  in  the  dead  leaves. 

'When  the  boat  was  loaded  I  washed  my 
hands  seven  times,  and  pared  beneath  my 
nails,  for  I  would  not  keep  one  grain.  I  went 
out  by  the  little  gate  where  the  Castle's  refuse 
is  thrown.  I  dared  not  hoist  sail  lest  men 
should  see  me;  but  the  Lord  commanded  the 
tide  to  bear  me  carefully,  and  I  was  far  from 
land  before  the  morning.' 

'Weren't  you  afraid?'  said  Una. 

'Why?  There  were  no  Christians  in  the 
boat.  At  sunrise  I  made  my  prayer,  and  cast 
the  gold — all — all  that  gold  into  the  deep 
sea !  A  King's  ransom — no,  the  ransom  of 
a  People  !     When  I  had  loosed  hold  of  the  last 


272  PUCK  OF  POOR'S  HILL 

bars,  the  Lord  commanded  the  tide  to  return 
me  to  a  haven  at  the  mouth  of  a  river,  and 
thence  I  walked  across  a  wilderness  to  Lewes, 
where  I  have  brethren.  They  opened  the 
door  to  me,  and  they  say — I  had  not  eaten 
for  two  days — they  say  that  I  fell  across  the 
threshold,  crying,  "I  have  sunk  an  army 
with  horsemen  in  the  sea! 

'But  you  hadn't,'  said  Una.  *0h,  yes!  I 
see  I  You  meant  that  King  John  might  have 
spent  it  on  that  ? ' 

'Even  so,'  said  Kadmiel. 

The  firing  broke  out  again  close  behind 
them.  The  pheasants  poured  over  the  top 
of  a  belt  of  tall  firs.  They  could  see  young 
Mr.  Meyer,  in  his  new  yellow  gaiters,  very 
busy  and  excited  at  the  end  of  the  line,  and 
they  could  hear  the  thud  of  the  falling  birds. 

'But  what  did  Elias  of  Bury  do?'  Puck 
demanded.  '  He  had  promised  money  to  the 
King.' 

Kadmiel  smiled  grimly.  '  I  sent  him  word 
from  London  that  the  Lord  was  on  my  side. 
When  he  heard  that  the  Plague  had  broken 
out  in  Pevensey,  and  that  a  Jew  had  been 
thrust  into  the  Castle  to  cure  it,  he  understood 
my  word  was  true.  He  and  Adah  hurried  to 
Lewes  and  asked  me  for  an  accounting.  He 
still  looked  on  the  gold  as  his  own.  I  told 
them  where  I  had  laid  it,  and  I  gave  them 
full  leave  to  pick  it  up.  .  .  .  Eh,  well! 
The  curses  of  a  fool  and  the  dust  of  a  journey 
are  two  things  no  wise  man  can  escape.  .  .  . 
But  I  pitied  Elias!  The  King  was  wroth  at 
him  because  he  could  not  lend;    the  Barons 


THE  TREASURE  AND  THE  LAW    273 

were  wroth  at  him  because  they  heard  that 
he  would  have  lent  to  the  King;  and  Adah 
was  wroth  at  him  because  she  was  an  odious 
woman.  They  took  ship  from  Lewes  to  Spain. 
That  was  wise  ! ' 

'  And  you  ?  Did  you  see  the  signing  of  the 
Law  at  Runnymede  ? '  said  Puck,  as  Kadmiel 
laughed  noiselessly. 

'  Nay.  Who  am  I  to  meddle  with  things 
too  high  for  me?  I  returned  to  Bury,  and 
lent  money  on  the  autumn  crops.     Why  not  ?  * 

There  was  a  crackle  overhead.  A  cock- 
pheasant  that  had  sheered  aside  after  being 
hit  spattered  down  almost  on  top  of  them, 
driving  up  the  dry  leaves  like  a  shell.  Flora 
and  Folly  threw  themselves  at  it ;  the  children 
rushed  forward,  and  when  they  had  beaten 
them  off  and  smoothed  down  the  plumage 
Kadmiel  had  disappeared. 

'Well,'  said  Puck,  calmly,  'what  did  you 
think  of  it?  Weland  gave  the  Sword.  The 
Sword  gave  the  Treasure,  and  the  Treasure 
gave  the  Law.  It's  as  natural  as  an  oak 
growing. ' 

'I  don't  understand.  Didn't  he  know  it 
was  Sir  Richard's  old  treasure?'  said  Dan. 
*  And  why  did  Sir  Richard  and  Brother  Hugh 
leave  it  lying  about?     And — and ' 

'Never  mind,'  said  Una,  politely.  'He'll 
let  us  come  and  go,  and  look,  and  know 
another  time.     Won't  you,  Puck?' 

'Another  time  maybe,'  Puck  answered. 
'  Brr !  It's  cold — and  late.  I'll  race  you  to- 
wards home!' 

They    hurried    down    into    the    sheltered 


274  PUCK  OP  POOR'S  HILL 

valley.  The  sun  had  almost  sunk  behind 
Cherry  Clack,  the  trodden  ground  by  the 
cattle-gates  was  freezing  at  the  edges,  and 
the  new-waked  north  wind  blew  the  night 
on  them  from  over  the  hills.  They  picked 
up  their  feet  and  flew  across  the  browned 
pastures,  and  when  they  halted,  panting 
in  the  steam  of  their  own  breath,  the  dead 
leaves  whirled  up  behind  them.  There  was 
Oak  and  Ash  and  Thorn  enough  in  that  year- 
end  shower  to  magic  away  a  thousand  mem- 
ories. 

So  they  trotted  to  the  brook  at  the  bottom 
of  the  lawn,  wondering  why  Flora  and  Folly 
had  missed  the  quarry-hole  fox. 

Old  Hobden  was  just  finishing  some  hedge- 
work.  They  saw  his  white  smock  glimmer 
in  the  twilight  where  he  faggoted  the  rub- 
bish. 

'Winter,  he's  come,  I  rackon,  Mus'  Dan,* 
he  called.  '  Hard  times  now  till  Heffie  Cuckoo 
Fair.  Yes,  we'll  all  be  glad  to  see  the  Old 
Woman  let  the  Cuckoo  out  o'  the  basket 
for  to  start  lawful  Spring  in  England.'  They 
heard  a  crash,  and  a  stamp  and  a  splash 
of  water  as  though  a  heavy  old  cow  were 
crossing  almost  under  their  noses. 

Hobden  ran  forward  angrily  to  the  ford. 

'Gleason's  bull  again,  play  in'  Robin  all 
over  the  Farm!  Oh,  look,  Mus'  Dan — his 
great  footmark  as  big  as  a  trencher.  No 
bounds  to  his  impidence  !  He  might  count 
himself  to  be  a  man — or  Somebody.' 

A  voice  the  other  side  of  the  brook 
boomed : 


THE  TREASURE  AND  THE  LAW  275 

I  marvel  who  his  cloak  would  turn 

When  Puck  had  led  him  round 

Or  where  those  walking  fires  would  burne ' 


Then  the  children  went  in  singing  "  Fare- 
well Rewards  and  Fairies  "  at  the  tops  of  their 
voices.  They  had  forgotten  that  they  had 
not  even  said  good-night  to  Puck. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  SONG 


Land  of  our  Birth,  we  pledge  to  thee 
Our  love  and  toil  in  the  years  to  he, 
When  we  are  grown  and  take  our  place, 
As  men  and  women  with  our  race. 

Father  in  Heaven  who  lovest  all, 
Oh  help  Thy  children  when  they  call; 
That  they  may  build  from  age  to  age, 
An  undefiled  heritage ! 

Teach  us  to  bear  the  yoke  in  youth, 
With  steadfastness  and  careful  truth; 
That,  in  our  time,  Thy  Grace  may  give 
The  Truth  whereby  the  Nations  live. 

Teach  us  to  rule  ourselves  alway. 
Controlled  and  cleanly  night  and  day; 
That  we  may  bring,  if  need  arise, 
No  maimed  or  worthless  sacrifice. 

Teach  us  to  look  in  all  our  ends. 
On  Thee  for  judge,  and  not  our  friends ; 
That  we,  with  Thee,  may  walk  uncowed 
By  fear  or  favour  of  the  crowd. 

Teach  us  the  Strength  that  cannot  seek, 
By  deed  or  thought,  to  hurt  the  weak; 
That,  under  Thee,  we  may  possess 
Man's  strength  to  comfort  man's  distress. 
376 


PUCK  OF  POOK'S  HILL  277 

Teach  us  Delight  in  simple  things, 
And  Mirth  that  has  no  bitter  springs; 
Forgiveness  free  of  evil  done, 
And  Love  to  all  men  'neath  the  sun  ! 

Land  of  our  Birth,  our  Faith  our  Pride, 

For  whose  dear  sake  our  fathers  died; 

O  Motherland,  we  pledge  to  thee, 

Head,  heart,  and  hand  through  the  years  to  he  ! 


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